A Song of the Firstborn
by NoahBaratheon
Summary: In King's Landing, the first son that Queen Cersei birthed had black hair just like his father. Although he abdicated the throne and passed the Crown Prince title to his younger brother Joffrey, he grew up to play a critical role in the game of thrones with a wish to become as great a knight as his Uncle Jaime.
1. 1

**For starter's, let me just say that this plot has been brewing in my head for some time. I watched the series and read the books wondering how things would have been a bit different if Cersei's firstborn son had not been a still born. I didn't want to change the books that much, since the firstborn would've been heir to the throne and not Joffrey, so I found a way that he would be the first born and Joffrey would still be heir.**

**I plan to follow the events of the television show since that would be a lot less complicated than following the events of the series. Also I'm sure more people have watched the show then read the books.**

**I won't be changing major plot points, (people dying, major events, etc.), but maybe some slight changes. He will be the only OC character in this story, and he certainly will not be perfect like how some people make OC characters. He will have his own downfalls and moments that you may not like him too much like the rest of the characters. To me I never liked the OC characters being a little too perfect, and always liked the drama that came with the unperfect OC characters.**

**If you have questions as this story progresses, please feel free to leave a review or send me a PM. I will do my best to answer the questions as best I can. Feedback is also welcome, in any sort but don't be too harsh.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**The characters in this story are the same ages as they appear in the television show. (Meaning the children)**

* * *

The royal party always reminded Noah of a flock, maybe a herd or even a pack. It was the same concept really, his father constantly guarded by at least four knights in gold armour like the alpha male in a wolf pack. His mother and younger siblings always were concealed inside the carriage that they brought along with them, hiding themselves from the changing climate along with the changing scenery. Noah often wondered how boring it got in there, since it was the three of them in a bumpy carriage with no opening to look outside. They also had been traveling for more than a month, and to Noah, he could barely stand an hour in the closed off carriage. Instead, Noah travelled by horse alongside his father occasionally, but even then he liked to go off the Kingsroad. He stayed behind to take in the scenery, or he raced far ahead to catch a glimpse of what the royal party would be seeing in ten minutes. Sometimes there would be a pleasant surprise when he rode ahead, like a particularly large tree or a pack of wild boar or wolves. They always had disappeared by the time the royal party had gone, scared by the loud noise of the carriage and trotting of horses.

The North was certainly different from King's Landing, which was all Noah ever really knew. The high walls that protected him from the rest of the city concealed him within, and his mother always told him that it wasn't safe for him to go beyond the walls without either of the House guards or a member of the Kingsguard. It didn't matter which, just as long as he never went alone. The way his mother treated it, the walls of the Red Keep seemed just like The Wall that protected Westeros from the Wildings and legendary creatures like the White Walkers. The common folk of King's Landing were like the people beyond the wall to her. He thought his mother's almost obsession with protecting him stemmed from the fact that he had the "Crown Prince" title, but it continued even after he had declared his abdication at the age of thirteen. His siblings also received the same sort of treatment, like every stick was a sword and every cut a severed limb.

Noah grew used to his mother's overprotective nature, preferring it sometimes to the attention he received from his father which was the exact opposite. His father was definitely no knight in shining armor, at least not anymore. King Robert had grown fat during his reign as king, and even more so angry at everyone, even his own children. Noah noticed it, he still loved his father as any man would, but he could not help but feel his father's look of disappointment ever since he denied his right to the throne.

Robert had given him more attention when Noah still held the Crown Prince title. He took Noah out on his first hunting trip in the Kingswood when he was ten years old. The Queen Regent was relentless about keeping Noah at the castle, that hunting was no place for a boy so young. His father disagreed and got his way in the end as usual, claiming that Noah would have to learn someday and that hunting helped mold a good king. His younger brother Joffrey envied him, the extra attention he got from their father and the fact Noah was better at a sword than Joffrey was and was easily able to knock him flat on his back into the dirt when they used to spar with wooden sticks.

The fact Noah was Crown Prince followed him everywhere. The title haunted him, to a point that the word crown almost scared him. He spent a great deal of his preteen years in the often empty throne room, looking at the twisted contortion of iron swords that had been shaped into an ugly throne. He had never sat on it, but he knew he was going to have to occupy the chair one day. It was said to be highly uncomfortable, and he understood why his father stayed away from it like the plague. He tried to imagine himself sitting on the throne, a golden crown on his head and all the power in the seven kingdoms. As much as most men in Westeros would dream of that position, Noah loathed the idea. He had seen what his father was becoming as he ruled the seven kingdoms. How the amount of wine that he consumed grown, and bedding those whores was no secret. He had a small twinge of disliking for his father ever since he had found out about the amount of women that he slept with, wasn't a marriage supposed to be honoring your wife by not bedding every other woman in Westeros? Honor was a very high up priority in Noah's mind, as it was in every high born boy his age. When he realized how greatly he cared about honor, preferring sword play over ruling a continent, and spending time being trained by his Uncle Jaime and grandfather that he knew that being a king definitely wasn't for him. A few weeks before his thirteenth name day, Noah had went to his Uncle Jaime with what had been on his mind for a while. His dream wasn't to be king, he wanted to be a member of the Kingsguard like his uncle. Being king was being handed to him on a silver platter basically, he didn't need to earn the king title. But being a member of the Kingsguard was great pride. You were sworn to protect the king and his family, you were one of the best fighters in Westeros, and there was a great deal of honor involved in that.

So about a week after his thirteenth name day, Noah had announced to the king and queen that he was abdicating the crown to his brother Joffrey so that he could train to become a knight and then one day a member of the Kingsguard. His lord father hadn't taken it well, outraged and clearly upset that his oldest son denied his right to the throne. His mother had helped coax him into it, showing him how much honor that Noah would bring when he became part of the Kingsguard and that he had another son who would become king along with one who would protect him.

His father didn't pay much attention to him after that, not as much as he used to at least. Noah always felt like a bit of a disappointment around his father, like he had failed him by making a decision. Noah knew he would've been no good at ruling an entire continent anyway, his love for swordplay and protecting would get in the way of sitting at small council meetings and being the judge of the commoners various problems. The gold armour called to him more than the iron throne, and even though he felt like he was disappointing his father, a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when the Crown Prince title belonged to his younger brother Joffrey.

As much as he loved swordplay and fighting, he didn't repeal any sort of book knowledge. He wasn't as smart and didn't love books as much as his Uncle Tyrion, and probably would never come close to outsmarting him, but his grandfather had definitely made sure that he was getting some sort of an education. So he learned to read, write, do things that would academically separate himself away from the lowborns with no proper education at all. His grandfather had taught him himself, not wanting his Uncle Tyrion to fill him with nonsense lies about various things or anything really.

None the less, Noah still had a strong connection with his Uncle Tyrion, even though their paths didn't cross that much other than meals and sometimes in the hallways of the castle. Tyrion often stayed in the king's large library or King's Landing whore house, where Noah was usually outside sparring with whoever was up for it. As much as Noah liked sparring with his Uncle Jaime, his uncle was often with his father and protecting him, not having time to do anything other than his duty. Even Joffrey didn't want to spar with Noah anymore, preferring to spend time with their mother. The times Tyrion did get together with Noah were filled with much laughter and Noah's attempts to try to outwit his uncle, all failing miserably in the end. Tyrion drank sometimes as much as his father and was known to bed almost as many whores. Noah never minded that, since Tyrion wasn't married to anyone and didn't have children like his father.

But now that Winterfell was coming into sight, it brought a new feeling in the pit of Noah's stomach. Winterfell rose tall and was very beautiful to say the least. The North's summer was damp and chilly, unlike the South that was hot and made sleeping with blankets uncomfortable. There was the smell of fire mixed with wet wood in the air, as well as the smell of cooking meat. Winterfell was obviously preparing for the welcoming feast for the king and his family, which was going to take a large amount of food just to fill King Robert's belly. There were guards holding banners of the Starks, the dire wolf sigil clearly visible on the cloudy day and slight fog. The weather was the same everyday, and Noah wasn't sure he could remember the last time he properly saw the sun. He wasn't complaining, it was better to be cold and warm by a large fire than to be so hot and have no way of cooling down other than jumping into a river, even that was temperamental relief.

Noah turned on his horse, the side of the white horse facing the castle so that Noah could get a better look before he kicked his horse and gave it a nudge to pick up the pace back to the party of people making their way towards it. He galloped back down the hill towards the party, only slowing down when he got close to the Kingsguard surrounding his father.

"I saw Winterfell just up ahead!" Noah informed his father. Finally taking a break from traveling so long only increased Noah's happiness to get off of the horse he was on and have a proper meal that wasn't just jerky or summerwine.

"Looks like we should be there soon. Your brother Joffrey needs to get out of that wretched wagon and onto a horse. He is the Crown Prince after all, and needs to make a good impression on the Starks." his father said.

"Of course, father." Noah said, noticing how his father once again pointed out the fact Joffrey was the crown prince. "I'll get him immediately."

Once they got Joffrey onto a chestnut colored horse, they had just about arrived at the castle of Winterfell. Joffrey wasn't pleased with the weather, and draped his maroon wool cloak over him hastily in attempts to keep him warm. His maroon riding clothes looked almost too nice to touch, and he wasn't going to like his cloak getting all dirty which was inevitable since the ground was so wet.

They got in the line to enter the Great Keep, their father would come in last right behind the carriage that would take their other siblings Tommen and Myrcella along with the queen. Like Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen both had green eyes and blonde hair like their mother. Noah always felt a bit like how a bastard would, since he didn't look at all like his younger siblings. Noah's hair was black and went down past his ears, and his eyes were an icy blue that reminded him of the stories he had heard of far North beyond the Wall. Normally, Noah would be wearing armor for this sort of thing but his mother would have none of it when he tried to pull on his regular steel armour. Instead he was made to put on his riding clothes, a dark brown marsh color, the only ones he had brought with him and also never bothered to even touch until that day.

Noah's white horse circled the Great Keep and followed the bannermen that were holding the sigils of House Baratheon and House Lannister. The mud under the hooves of the horses was making an awkward squelching noise, and Noah could see Joffrey out of the corner of his eye. Joffrey however was looking over at the Starks, a queer smile on his face. Following where Joffrey was looking, he looked at the one Stark child that was smiling smally back at him. Noah recognized her as Sansa Stark, not because he remembered ever seeing her before, but she clearly was the oldest daughter of Ned Stark.

The children were all in a line beside their parents in order of age, Robb at the beginning standing proudly with his chest out and sharp fur cloak. Sansa had the same red hair as Robb did, which she had inherited from their mother. She was quite beautiful, and Noah had only heard stories about this beauty of the North. She didn't notice Noah, that was one thing Noah gave up with the Crown Prince title. People noticed the heir more than any of the other siblings, and Noah understood where Joffrey's obvious jealousy stemmed from. It wasn't that Noah wasn't attractive like his brother Joffrey, in fact both were partly known for their handsome looks. It was just that since Noah was striving to be part of the Kingsguard, Kingsguard members swore to celibacy and never married or had children. The younger daughter Arya was standing next to her, also looking nothing like her brothers and sisters who all resembled her mother. Maybe Arya could relate to the lack of resemblance like Noah had. Bran and Rickon also looked like their mother, their hair longer and just the same shade of auburn. Standing a little ways behind the lord and lady of Winterfell was Jon Snow, Ned Stark's infamous bastard son. Jon and Arya looked a lot alike, their features resembling those of the Starks more than the other siblings.

Once his father entered, everyone kneeled for the king as he dismounted from his tired looking horse. His father was also in his riding clothes, probably because he couldn't fit very well in his armor anymore. His father walked quickly over to the Lord of Winterfell, looking down at the kneeling man who was obviously getting himself dirty with his knees in the mud. Ned Stark rose to his feet when commanded to by the king, and the rest of the people kneeling followed suit.

"Your Grace." Ned mumbled, bowing his head quickly before looking into the eyes of the king. Noah watched the old friend's altercation, it sure was turning out to be very awkward. Ned was giving his friend all of the courtesies, bowing many times and calling him by his titles. As Noah waited, his left hand went to his opposite side where his sword was sheathed inside his scabbard. He placed his hand on the handle and scratched it subconsciously, having doing so since he had received the blade on his fifteenth name day when he was sent off to be his grandfather's squire at Casterly Rock. It was there that he began training to become a knight, by taking care of his grandfather's precious armour and washing and cleaning the hooves of his horse daily. It was tedious work, especially for a prince, but it had paid off by his seventeenth name day when he returned to King's Landing after completing his time as a squire. He hadn't been knighted yet, his father wouldn't do it. He thought Noah needed more training before he took the final step to becoming a knight, but Noah knew it was just to see if he would change his mind about giving up the throne. It was too late anyway.

"You've got fat." Robert said bluntly, his face staying still. The only thing that moved was his curly beard. Ned's children looked surprised by the king's comment, failing at concealing the look on their face.

From where he was on top of his saddle, the Lord of Winterfell nodded at the king's stomach, pointing out the king's large belly that his riding clothes was having a hard time to conceal. Both men suddenly broke out laughing, embracing tightly just like old friends. In that moment, their titles were shed and Robert was not the king of Westeros, Ned not the Lord of Winterfell, just two old friends who had not seen each other in a while.

Robert moved to hug Ned's wife, Catelyn and stopped to ruffle the hair of young Rickon.

"Nine years." Robert sighed. "I haven't seen you, where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace." Ned responded proudly. Noah could sense the amount of pride that Ned clearly had for himself, honor most likely becoming one of the main things that he prioritised in his life. "Winterfell is yours."

Noah looked to see his mother and two youngest siblings exiting the carriage, the queen holding her dress in both hands to prevent as much of it from getting ruined from the horse shit and mud on the ground. She looked around briefly, making her way towards where her husband stood with Ned and his family.

"Who have we here?" Robert asked, walking down the line of children. He stopped in front of Robb, who was a few inches taller than the king and had excellent posture. "You must be Robb."

Robb shook the king's hand firmly, as if he had been practicing his whole life for that one moment.

"Aye, you're a pretty one." Robert said, nodding at Sansa who smiled slightly and looked at her feet. Noah had to agree with him on that one.

"Your name is?" Robert asked the younger Stark girl.

"Arya." she replied hesitantly.

When he looked at Bran, Bran looked up expectantly at the king. "Show us your muscles." the king commanded and Bran flexed one of his arms. "You'll be a soldier."

Noah's mother held out her hand for Lord Eddard to kiss it, smiling quickly and weakly at them all. He could tell that she didn't like Winterfell, preferring King's Landing or even Casterly Rock over it.

"Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects." Robert said.

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." Cersei said, as Noah dismounted from his horse and gave the reins to one of the nearby soldiers. Joffrey got down next to him, stepping closer to his Uncle Jaime in his golden armor.

Disregarding Cersei's comment, Robert stalked off with Ned close behind to leave the rest of the Stark family and Baratheon's to migrate inside to change out of their riding clothes and prepare for the upcoming feast.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya asked her sister, as her mother turned back around and approached her brother and two older sons.

"Where is our little brother?" she asked. "Go and find the beast."

Jaime turned with his whole body, as he often did when in his golden armor, to look at Noah who was on his right as his sister took Tommen and Myrcella into the castle, urging Joffrey to follow. His hand was on his sword, as it always was if he was walking, standing, running, right at the hilt.

"Should we go find my dear brother?" he asked casually. "I think you and I both know where he's ended up."

Noah smiled slightly, knowing exactly where his uncle was. It hadn't even been ten minutes had it? They walked through the muddy streets of Winterfell to find the brothel that their uncle most likely staying at. Noah would've gone and properly introduced himself to the Stark children, but finding his uncle was a bigger task than shaking and kissing hands with the Starks. There would be plenty of mingling between the Houses at the welcoming feast tonight.

"All you have to do is follow the moans." Jaime said, exaggerating his voice. "More like fake ones, you pay them to make you think they're having a good time. And most men actually believe it!"

"And you would know, uncle?" Noah asked, as they passed by carts of produce that was going to be sold to the castle for the welcoming feast tonight.

"And don't be so dense, I wasn't always sworn to celibacy you know. I wasn't part of the Kingsguard from birth." Jaime said, and slowed down his walking. "Hear that?"

Noah listened over the chatter of the people moving within the streets, clutching the hilt of his sword subconsciously.

"The moaning." Jaime said dramatically, wiggling his fingers which were covered by his gauntlets, causing Noah to laugh.

They headed towards the source of the noise in a small shack, entering in to find Lord Tyrion Lannister. The girls inside were wearing minimal clothing, despite the slightly cold temperature outside. They looked up, a bit surprised most likely to see a member of the Kingsguard and former Crown Prince standing in their establishment.

"Here for a lady, my lords?" one of the women asked, looking up from the table.

"Uh no not today. We're actually here for an Imp, seen him? Probably the only one that's walked in here." Jaime said, using his arm to roughly show Tyrion's height.

"Oh of course, my lord. Just down the hall to the left." she said, pointing towards the hallway with her quill. "A very generous customer he is."

"Oh, send about three more of those girls on into the room. I'll pay for them once I leave him to his doings."

Noah followed Jaime down the hallway that the girl had mentioned, and Jaime immediately opened the door and barged in. Noah followed in shortly behind, slightly laughing at the sight of his uncle already in the brothel when they had just arrived. The naked woman on top of him looked at both him and Jaime, her hair messy from her job.

"Don't get up." Jaime said, as Noah shut the door behind them.

"My lords." the whore said, climbing off of Tyrion to lay down next to him. Noah tried his best to avert his eyes to the ground.

"Should I explain the meaning to you both of a closed door in a whore house?" Tyrion asked, leaning his head back on the pillows.

"You have much to teach us no doubt, but our sister craves your attention." Jaime said, walking towards the wine flagon and cups. Noah slowly walked towards the middle of the room, putting his hand on his sword much like Jaime.

"She has her cravings our sister." Tyrion said as the paid girl snuggled into him.

The fire crackled behind Noah, warming his back as Jaime handed him a cup of wine.

"A family trait." Jaime remarked, as Noah took a deep drink of the wine. "Now the welcoming feast starts at sundown. Don't leave me alone with these people."

"I'm sorry. But I've begun the feast a bit early." Tyrion said, watching Jaime take a gulp of his own wine. "And this is the first of many courses."

"I thought you might say that." Jaime said, walking towards the closed door of the room. "But since we're short on time…"

Jaime opened the doors were three equal undressed women were standing, laughing as they got their bum slapped by Jaime as they entered the room towards Tyrion. Noah laughed slightly as he placed the cup down and followed his Uncle Jaime.

"See you at sundown!" Jaime called as they exited the room and closed the door shut behind him.

"I think that should keep him occupied." Noah remarked.

"Let's just hope that he shows up."

* * *

King Robert didn't like to sit at the High Table where the rest of the family was. The Starks had been sat among the Baratheon children, Noah noticing that Sansa looked over at Joffrey shyly every so often to try and get his attention, he was always giving her that same queer smile back. The company of the eldest Stark boy was the only thing that was preventing Noah from getting up and leaving the feast. The people behind him seemed to be having a much grander time than the royal family, even his father was mixing among the people and kissing some woman that was most likely a kitchen wench. Noah tried to ignore what his father was doing, and glanced at his mother to make sure that she was okay. She was sitting at the high table with Lady Catelyn, watching the people of the feast.

"You must be Noah Baratheon." Robb said next to him, practically yelling over the loud noise of the people at the feast. They sat at a table among the people, only it seemed a separate one for the highborn children. Noah sat there among his siblings, the Stark children, and their highborn friends. "Well it's quite obvious that you are actually."

"And you're Robb Stark!" Noah said, shaking hands vigorously with the Stark. Robb must've been his age, seventeen most likely. Already a man grown, or almost.

"You're the one that gave up the crown!" Robb said, as if it wasn't obvious.

"That's me, you know. Just trying to become a member of the Kingsguard instead." Noah said, taking a bite of his meat.

"Quite ambitious, my prince." Robb commented.

"It's just Noah, none of that my prince shit. I honestly don't want to deal with stupid titles while I'm away from King's Landing. Gods, sometimes I don't even hear my name all day back there. All they do is call me my prince." Noah said distastefully, shifting slightly in his black leather doublet. "We're dressed up and sitting here for a feast that will make us fat and bloated by the morrow."

"There really is too much food." Robb agreed, taking a gulp of his summerwine.

The men behind were laughing and pushing each other around, celebrating among their king with drunken confidence. Noah wiped his hand on a cloth by his plate and ran his hand through his hair to prevent strands from falling in front of his face. It really did sometimes get in the way of everything.

"Do you like Winterfell?" Robb asked, as Noah looked around the Great Hall.

"It's quite different from the warm climate of King's Landing I'll say." Noah said. "But a good different, it's not unbearably hot up here."

"I never understood the appeal for the North honestly." Robb said.

"It has its perks." Noah said, sipping from his goblet as his eyes flashed over to Robb's oldest sister. He caught her eye, and she quickly looked away again to begin whispering to her friend that was sitting next to her.

"Excuse me, my prince." Robb said, and Noah watched Robb rise to his feet. "It appears my Uncle Benjen has made it to the welcoming feast."

"Don't let me stop you." Noah said, and Robb nodded courteously before hurrying towards Ned and his uncle.

Noah didn't have anyone to talk to know, and he sat picking at the food that was still on his plate. The dim lighting made everything have an odd glow to it, especially his hands which had grease and oil on them from eating. Noah did have proper manners for eating, he did grow up in the capital after all, but it was clear that his mother was paying no attention to how he was eating so he became a bit more messier with it.

"Like the North, Joff?" Noah asked, feebly making conversation with his brother next to him.

"Yes, it's alright." Joffrey said, his eyes still trained on the beautiful Stark girl. He had distaste to his voice that didn't back up his statement about finding the North alright.

It didn't take long for Robb to come back and sit himself between Noah and Joffrey again, informing him of what his Uncle Benjen was doing at Winterfell.

"He's part of the Night's Watch you see, and I guess word got round through a raven about the king coming to appoint my father Hand of the King." Robb said.

Before Noah could respond, something flew through the air and hit Sansa across the face. Noah was incapable of holding back his laughter as Robb laughed heartily next to him and banged his fist on the table. Even Joffrey was bent over with laughter. Robb's laughter quickly subsided as he rose to his feet again, and made his way towards the source of the flying piece of food. He grabbed his sister by the arms and pulled her up from her seat, pushing her slightly to lead her out of the Grand Hall.

Two more hours in, people were starting to leave the welcoming feast to stumble back to their chambers. The dim lighting on top of making everything have a strange glow, also made Noah's eyes itch with most likely tiredness. He had eaten all that he could and was practically to a point where he thought food may start coming out of his ears. The welcoming feast was beginning to die down, and his time to retire came. He rose from his chair and shook hands pompously with Robb before trying to find his way out of the Great Hall. The amount of wine he had drunk was becoming evident, and he had to make his way through the unknown castle at a slower pace.

"My apologies." Noah said, as he bumped into someone by the entrance.

"It's quite alright, my prince." a shy voice said.

Noah recognized the older Stark girl, and cursed himself for being in this state for their first interaction.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we were able to be properly introduced, Lady Sansa." Noah said, holding out his hand for Sansa to place it in his. He kissed her hand before releasing it, folding his arms behind his back.

"The pleasure is all mine." Sansa replied.

"I hear there is a chance you'll be marrying my brother." Noah said, he could already see the red blush evident on her cheeks. "So you'll be my sister and my queen."

"That seems so." Sansa said. Noah almost felt bad for her, she had no idea what she would soon be getting herself into.

"Well as a future member of the Kingsguard, I'll be sworn to protect you and your children as well. I look forward to it." Noah said.

Sansa nodded, "Excuse me, my prince. I should be getting to my bed chambers."

"Of course, my lady. Goodnight."

Noah watched Sansa walk past him and down the dim hallway, turning away only when she had disappeared around the corner. He sighed and turned on his heel, hoping he didn't sound too stupid as he began to find his own bed chambers.


	2. 2

**coldblue: I love "The Lion With Antlers", it's one of my favorites as well. Your suggestions are actually really inspiring and I may plan on using a few as the story progresses.**

**LordTaurusBlack: by seeing Noah as a Kingsguard, he may have some struggles with things with his brother as king.**

* * *

**Arya.**

* * *

Some people just aren't good at certain things, and Arya Stark seemed to be bad at everything that a lady was supposed to be good at. From wearing dresses to reading books and now, making her stitches straight. They were a mess, unlike her older sister Sana's, who was always good at everything that a lady was supposed to be good at.

Septa Mordane was too busy instructing Princess Myrcella on her needlework, giving her small suggestions on how to make it better. If it had been Arya, she wouldn't have been so kind when trying to fix her work. Septa Mordane just liked kissing the ground the princess walked on. After all, she was as elegant as Sansa.

Sansa always was the more favorited Stark sister. She was beautiful, her auburn hair a gorgeous and always clean color, and seemed to make more friends than Arya could count. Arya didn't have many friends, the people she played with were always commoner boys and her sister was quick to tell their mother or Septa Mordane when she saw Arya playing with one of them. Jon, despite being her half brother, always felt like her closest friend in Winterfell. Sansa seemed to hate him, always reminding people that Jon was her bastard brother. Sansa was whispering and giggling with her friends on the opposite side of the room, and she swore she saw she saw Sansa's eyes flash over to her.

"What are you talking about?" Arya asked.

Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole, looked over and giggled. None of the girls answered her, making Arya grow angry with frustration.

"Tell me." she urged.

"We were talking about the prince." Sansa said softly.

"Which one?" Arya asked, there were three of them after all.

"The Crown Prince likes your sister. He told her she was very beautiful." Jeyne said.

"He's going to marry her," Beth Cassel said. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

"What's wrong with Noah?" Arya asked, glancing at Sansa who blushed.

"Noah's dream is to be Kingsguard. They aren't allowed to marry, don't you know anything?" Jeyne said, looking at Arya as if she were completely stupid.

"Beth, you shouldn't make up stories," Sansa said to Beth, ignoring Arya and Jeyne's comment on the oldest prince. She looked to Arya, "What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?"

"Jon says he looks like a girl," Arya said. The Crown Prince always had a weird look on his face, and his features did make him look a bit like one of the girls in the room.

Sansa sighed, "Poor Jon, he gets jealous because he's a bastard."

"He's our brother." Arya said loudly, causing Septa Mordane to look up from helping the princess.

"What are you talking about, children?" she asked.

"Our _half_ brother." Sansa corrected, causing Arya to roll her eyes. "Arya and were remarking on how please we were to have the princess with us today," she said.

"Indeed, a great honor for us all." Septa Mordane said, noticing Arya had abandoned her needlework on the table. "Let me see your stitches."

Arya looked nervously down at the stitches on the table, pushing it over to Septa Mordane. Septa Mordane tutted at Arya's work, shaking her head. Arya could hear giggles from the other girls in the room, surely making fun of her inadequate needlework. To spare herself anymore embarrassment, she got down from the chair and hurried towards the door.

"Arya! Come back here! Don't you take another step or your lady mother will hear of this. In front of our royal princess too! You shame us all!"

Arya turned around in the threshold of the door, "By your leave, my lady."

"Just where do you think you are going, Arya?" the septa demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"I have to go shoe a horse." she said before turning around and running away. She needed to be as far away from the septa, Sansa, the princess, and all of the obnoxious girls in the room. They were overrated anyway.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?" Jon asked, as Arya climbed the sill to sit next to him.

There was a slapping of wooden coming from down below, an occasional hoot of laughter or grunt. Jon was watching them with observant eyes, his hound Ghost next to him as usual. Arya's own wolf Nymeria approached Ghost and laid down next to him.

"I wanted to watch them fight." she informed Jon.

Down below, Arya saw her brother Bran and the youngest prince Tommen sparring down below. Well, sort of sparring, if you called occasionally hitting each other with a wooden sword sparring. Both were extremely padded, panting and winded as they slashed away at each other. It seemed like an effort for both of them just to attempt to swing at the other, the wood sword was so heavy. Ser Rodrick Cassel watched them carefully, so was Robb, Theon, Noah, and Joffrey. Noah was leaning on the stone wall, occasionally chuckling at Arya's brother and his own youngest brother as they sparred. Robb who was next to him, was occasionally saying inaudible things to Noah to make him laugh. Both Robb and Noah's hair was damp from sweat, messy and getting in their faces whenever the wind blew. Joffrey looked like he would rather not be there, and didn't contribute to their conversation at all, his hair still perfect and blonde. More men and squires stood around them, also watching the match with different levels of interest.

"A shade more exhausting than needlework." Jon observed.

"A shade more fun than needlework." Arya countered, as Jon reached over to ruffle her hair.

Both sat in contentment as they watched the rest of the young boy's sparring match, noticing something she hadn't thought about before.

"Why do you think that Noah is the only one who has black hair?" Arya asked. She looked at Joffrey and Tommen, both with brilliant blonde hair. Even Myrcella had elegant blonde curls that fell down her back.

"Why is it you look more like your father than any of your siblings?" Jon countered.

Arya thought about it, she and Noah did share the fact that neither of them looked anything like their siblings. Maybe he would understand where she was coming from when she said she didn't fit in among them.

"Don't say that, their your siblings too." Arya said. "Do you think Noah's a bastard?"

Jon laughed, "Doubtful. Look at him, if you don't see King Robert in him than you must be blind."

"Well maybe he's a bastard because Queen Cersei isn't his mother." Arya thought, realizing it was a stupid observation immediately after it left her mouth.

Jon continued to laugh, "It doesn't work that way, little sister."

Another thought struck Arya, and this one wasn't as stupid as the prior. "Why aren't you down in the yard?" she asked.

Jon's laughter faded, his smile still remained though. "Bastards are not allowed to damage young princes. Any bruises they take in the practice yard must come from trueborn swords."

"Oh." Arya said, averting her eyes from Jon. Maybe it had been a stupid thing to say.

"I think I could do just as good as Bran," she said. "He's ten and I'm eleven."

For seventeen, Jon carried a lot of wits and wisdom despite being a bastard. "You're too skinny. I doubt you could even lift a longsword, little sister, never mind swing one."

She glared at Jon, his clearly playful comment not helping. She turned back to Bran and Tommen, who clearly were in their last moments of the match. Both were clearly more exhausted than before, only taking a few strikes at each other.

"You see Prince Joffrey and Prince Noah?" Jon asked.

"What about them?" Arya asked, noticing them both.

"Look at the arms on their surcoats," Jon pointed towards both princes.

Arya looked at Joffrey, the arms on his coat divided down the middle. On the left was a crowned stag of the royal House, and a roaring lion of the Lannisters on the right. From there she looked at Noah, whose arms had the same sigil as Joffrey's. It was rather odd that two house appeared on the arms, instead of just their father's House.

"The Lannisters are proud," Jon said. "You'd think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. They make their mother's House equal in honor to the king's."

"The woman is important too!" Arya protested.

"The Lannisters must be a great influence on the children of the king and queen that it was enough to make them add a lion to their sigil." Jon said. "Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister. Wed Tully to Stark in your arms."

"A wolf with a fish in its mouth?" she laughed. "That would look silly. Besides, if a girl can't fight, why should she have a coat of arms?"

Jon shrugged, "Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister."

When they looked back down at the courtyard, Tommen was rolling around in the dirt trying to get up but was unable to due to the great amount of padding on him. Arya's younger brother was standing over him preparing to hit him again with his wooden sword.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik yelled. "Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor. Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

"Gladly." Robb said, pushing off from the wall.

Joffrey moved into the sunlight, his blonde hair almost sparkling in the sun. "This game is for children, Ser Rodrik."

Theon laughed, "You are children." he said.

"Robb may be a child. I am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword."

"You got more swats than you gave, Joff," Robb said. "Are you afraid?"

"Joffrey is truly a little shit." Jon said to Arya as they watched what was happening below unfold.

"What are you suggesting?" Ser Rodrik asked the Crown Prince.

"Live steel."

"Done," Robb shot back. "You'll be sorry!"

Ser Rodrik shook his head, "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."

A strange man next to Joffrey with a burned face spoke for Joffrey instead, his voice sounding much like a growl from a dog. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it." Ser Rodrik shot back.

"Are you training women here?" the man asked.

"I am training _knights._"

"How old are you?" Clegane asked Robb.

"Seventeen." Robb said, his chest puffing out.

"I killed a man when I was twelve, and it wasn't with a blunt edge."

"Let me do it. I can beat him." Robb said to Ser Rodrik, his face angry.

"Beat him with a tourney blade, then," Ser Rodrik said.

Joffrey shrugged, "Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not _too_ old." The Lannister men laughed in response, and Noah pushed off from the part of the stone wall he had been observing from. He quickly stepped in between Joffrey and Robb, keeping Robb from attacking his younger brother.

"I'll spar with you if you want." Noah grunted, as Robb tried to get by him. "Tourney blades, just like we did with the wood swords a little while ago."

"It's not worth it anymore." Robb said as Joffrey left with Tommen. He had pushed himself off of Noah and Theon, glaring at the Crown Prince retreating back to the castle.

From where Arya sat, she watched Jon, who was watching them leave. Robb hurried off towards the exit of the courtyard, picking a different exit than the one the two younger Baratheon boys had left in. Noah was left in the courtyard watching Robb's retreating back, his head snapping up to see Jon and Arya watching them. He stared for a moment before looking back down and quickly walking towards where Joffrey and Tommen had just exited, disappearing into the castle.

"The show is done," Jon said. "You had best run back to your room, little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking. The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You'll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers."

"I hate needlework!" she said, her face reddening. "It's not fair."

"Nothing's fair." Jon said, getting up from his spot next to her to leave with Ghost at his side.

* * *

**Tyrion.**

* * *

He didn't know how he ended up in the dog kennel, laying on smelly hay and curled up with a dog. He was still in the clothes he wore the night before, and his legs were stiff from sleeping funny. His nephew Joffrey was standing over him from the other side of the pen, his dog The Hound right beside him. He got to his feet with the help of the dog next to him, blinking and grunting to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"Better looking bitches than what you're used to, uncle?" Joffrey asked. Tyrion noticed that Joffrey's voice had always come across as a bit annoying, especially at this time in the morning. Now that the Crown Prince title was his, Joffrey's ego only seemed to have had enlarged. It could be worse however, it could be both Noah and Joffrey _and _Tommen with full blown egos and bursting with pride from their Lannister heritage. Noah and Tommen were good kids, and the fact Noah had been sent to practically lick Tyrion's father's boots as his squire for two years must've done a small part in keeping Noah relatively humble in a less annoying aspect.

"My mother's been looking for you." Joffrey informed, looking distastefully at his uncle. "We ride for King's Landing today."

"Before you go you will call on Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies." Tyrion said, as he made his way towards the gate of the pen.

"What good will my sympathies do to them?" Joffrey asked distastefully, as Tyrion pushed the gate open and made Joffrey move over to the side.

"None. But it is expected of you." Tyrion said, as Joffrey closed the gate. "Your absence has already been noted."

"The boy means nothing to me." Joffrey said, turning to look at his dog. "And I can't stand the wailing of women."

Before Joffrey could even react, Tyrion reached up and smacked Joffrey across the face sharply. To say Joffrey was surprised that his uncle hit him was an understatement as he clutched his cheek and made the sound that sounded just like a wail from a woman.

"One word and I'll hit you again." Tyrion warned.

"I'm telling mother-!" Joffrey said but was silenced with another slap to the other side of his face.

"Go!" Tyrion said, challenging his nephew. Joffrey watched him with shock as his hand slowly fell from his face. "Tell your mother. But first you will get to Lord and Lady Stark, and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are. That you're at their service and all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

"You can't!" Joffrey began, and was once again silenced with a slap. He made another squeaking noise, when would this boy learn? He was sixteen and to be Crown Prince, but still acted like a full fledged child.

"Do you understand?" Tyrion asked again, as Joffrey looked up.

Joffrey stalked off back towards the castle, and the side of Tyrion's mouth twitched into a smile.

"The prince will remember that, little lord." The Hound pointed out, watching Joffrey head towards the castle.

"I hope so." Tyrion said, ignoring the comment on his height. "If he does, be a good dog and remind him."

Before The Hound could respond, Tyrion turned and headed towards the castle himself. He smelt the air, the smell of food was always evident in the air whenever King Robert was around.

"Ah!" Tyrion exclaimed. "Time for breakfast!"

* * *

Tyrion entered the room where his family was breaking their fast in minutes, passing by a guard who immediately straightened up once he saw Tyrion. The servant who was taking care of their meals looked up expectantly at Tyrion, who already knew what he wanted to eat to break his fast.

"Bread." he said, making the servant look at him as she walked by. "And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down!"

Tyrion saw who was seated up at the table, heading towards a seat next to his youngest nephew Tommen.

"Oh and bacon, burnt black." Tyrion added, as he picked up Tommen and scooted him over a bit so that he could climb up and sit down next to him.

"Little brother." Jaime said.

"Beloved siblings." Tyrion said back, looking at his sister who looked anything but happy. Noah who was sitting to her left, smiled slightly as he took a bite of his rye bread. The spot next to Cersei was normally the spot that Robert would be seated at, but her normally ever joined them for breakfast. No one said otherwise to Noah who sat on the king's chair in black leather.

Tyrion grabbed the plate of bacon and placed it in front of him, giving Tommen a small smile as he took a bite.

"Is Bran going to die?" Myrcella said, speaking up as if she had been trying to say it for a period of time.

The five listeners at the table turned their attention to Tyrion, stopping their eating to hear what he had to say.

"Apparently not." Tyrion said, chewing his bacon.

Upon hearing the news, Myrcella and Tommen both smiled at their uncle. They both had taken a great liking to Bran. Noah took a sip of his black beer, looking at the three adults at the table.

"What do you mean?" Cersei asked.

"The maester says the boy may live." Tyrion repeated, taking a sip of the black beer they brought him.

His sister definitely did not look happy with the news that Tyrion brought, Jaime on his right hadn't touched his food since Tyrion had arrived.

"It's no mercy letting a child linger in such pain." Cersei said.

"Only the gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray." Tyrion said, buttering his bread. "I'm sure you've given your condolences to Lord and Lady Stark, haven't you Noah?"

"Of course, uncle." Noah said, shifting in the king's chair. "The first I heard I went to Lord Stark."

"Charms of the North seem entirely lost on you." Tyrion said, noticing his sister's grumpy attitude as he reached for another slice of bacon.

"I still can't believe you're going." Cersei said, referring to Tyrion's decision to go to Castle Black with Jon Snow and Benjen Stark. "It's ridiculous. Even for you."

"Where's your sense of wonder?" Tyrion asked, astounded that his siblings seemed to have no want to see The Wall. "The greatest structure ever built. The intrepid men of the Night's Watch. The wintry abode of the White Walkers!"

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." Jaime said, resting his arm on the table.

Noah stifled a laugh at the suggestion, masking it with another sip of his beer.

"And go celibate?" Tyrion asked, shocked that his brother would imply such a thing. "The whorse would be begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No I just want to stand on top of The Wall and piss off the edge of the world."

Tommen and Myrcella began laughing at what Tyrion said, and Tyrion saw Noah chuckle into his last bite of bread.

"Children don't need to hear your filth." Cersei said, watching Tyrion look at Tommen and chuckle. "Come." she beckoned to them like little ducklings.

Tommen and Myrcella rose to their feet to follow their mother, leaving Tyrion with his brother and his nephew to finish breaking their fast.

"Even if the boy lives, he'd be a _cripple. Grotesque." _Jaime pointed out. "Give me a good clean death anyday."

"Speaking for the grotesques, I'd have to disagree." Tyrion said. "Death is so final, where as life. Life is full of possibilities."

"Do they know what exactly he's broken?" Noah asked, finishing the last of his fish.

"Parts of his spine at the very least, who knows what damage it has done to him." Tyrion said. "And if the boy does wake, I'd be very interested to hear what he has to say."

"My dear brother," Jaime said, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. "These are times you make me wonder whose side you're on."

"_My _dear brother, you wound me." Tyrion said. "You know how much I love my family."

* * *

**Jon.**

* * *

Jon stood silently as he waited for the blacksmith to finish a sword he had requested to be made before he left to join the Night's Watch. The blacksmith's face was red, from being around the intense heat from the fire and working on steel all day. The blacksmith was old and it took him longer to get the sword done than Jon expected. He almost thought it wouldn't be done in time.

"A sword for The Wall?"

Jon turned around to see who had asked the question. It was none other than the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister in his gallant leathers. Jon had only seen and talked to him briefly, but he knew enough about him to know what type of man Jaime Lannister was, and it wasn't someone he liked to associate himself with.

"I already have one." Jon said, looking at his sword that was strapped to his belt.

"Good man." Jaime responded. "Have you swung it yet?"

"Of course I have." Jon said, trying to keep the confused expression off of his face.

"At someone, I mean." Jaime corrected himself, already seeming to very well know the answer.

"And your beloved nephews have?" Jon asked. "The boy who wishes to follow in the same footsteps as you?"

"Boy? Last time I checked, he was the same age as you. I didn't think that sort of thing changed." Jaime said. "And you'd be surprised what a squire of Tywin Lannister is required to do. Many people wish to see my father dead, and sometimes all there is is his young squire to protect him when he's unarmed. It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realize that we're nothing but sacs of meat and blood and some bone to keep it all standing."

"Let me thank you ahead of time," Jaime held out a hand to Jon, and Jon's eyes flashed down at it as if it were a sword about to cut him. He reached his hand out to shake Jaime's hand. "for guarding us all from the perils beyond The Wall, wildings and White Walkers and what not."

Jon tried to pull his hand away, but Jaime pulled it back and brought him in closer. Jon gulped as Jaime squeezed his hand with extreme force to prevent him from fleeing.

"We're grateful to have good, strong men like you protecting us." Jaime said, releasing Jon's hand to walk back to the castle.

Jaime was two steps ahead when Jon blurted out, "We've guarded the kingdoms for 8,000 years."

Jaime stopped and turned back around, a small smirk playing on his face. "Is it 'we' already?" he asked. "Have you taken your vows then?"

It was another question that Jaime Lannister already knew the answer to.

"Soon enough." Jon responded.

"Give my regards to the Night's Watch." Jaime said. "I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force. And if not? It's only for life."

With that, Jaime turned around and walked pompously back to the castle to prepare for traveling back to King's Landing, leaving Jon standing to watch him as the blacksmith readied the sword. He turned back around to the blacksmith, who looked up at him with a sunken face. No words were exchanged between the two, but the blacksmith gave him an expression that told him all that he needed to know.

* * *

Arya was packing for the journey to King's Landing when Jon entered her room. She had a less than enthusiastic look on her face, and automatically informed Jon on why she was still up in her room packing.

"Septa Mordane says I have to do it again." Arya said, rolling her eyes. "My things aren't properly folded, she says. Who cares how they're folded?! They're going to get all messed up anyway."

"It's good you've got help." Jon said, nodding to Arya's wolf.

Arya smiled and straightened up, "Watch." she told Jon. Jon did as he was told, watching for Arya's demonstration.

"Nymeria." Arya commanded. "Gloves."

Her direwolf sat there, unaware of what to do. Jon tried to hide back a chuckle as Arya repeated the command. Jon frowned as the wolf whimpered.

"Impressive." he commented.

"Shut up." she responded. "Nymeria. Gloves."

The wolf sat there again, still not moving from her spot on the ground.

"I have something for you." Jon said, trying to turn Arya's attention from the wolf. "And it has to be packed very carefully."

"A present?" Arya smiled.

"Close the door." Jon commanded.

As Arya went to close the door of her room, Jon set the cloth down on his bed and unwrapped it. Taking the small sword out from the wrappings and balanced it on his fingers before turning around to Arya. She smiled upon realizing what it was, reaching out to take it from her half brother.

"This is no toy." Jon informed her, unsheathing it from its scabbard. "Be careful you don't cut yourself."

"It's so skinny." Arya commented.

"So are you." Jon responded. "I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."

"I can be quick." Arya assured him.

"You'll have to work at it every day." Jon said.

"How does it feel? Do you like the balance?"

"I think so." Arya said.

"First lesson, stick them with the pointy end." Jon said.

"I know which end to use." Arya said, almost rolling her eyes. "Maybe I'll be better than King Robert's oldest son by the time I see you again."

"Maybe." Jon said. "I'm going to miss you."

Arya went to hug her brother, but forgot to put down her new sword. Jon backed away before she could cut him, "Careful." he warned.

Arya carefully set down her new sword before jumping into Jon's arms to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, feeling very sad that they would part in a few hours.

"All the best swords have names, you know." Jon said.

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I've got a needle of my own." Arya said.

* * *

Saying goodbye to his brother Bran was extremely hard, especially because Bran lay asleep and badly injured. Bran's mother had been cold to him, making Jon's presence clearly unwanted. He stayed longer and said goodbye anyway, only leaving when his father appeared in the doorway to Bran's bedroom.

The saddle of Jon's horse was heavy on his arm and he had to hike it up his shoulder twice as he made his way towards his horse.

"You've said goodbye to Bran?" Robb asked, coming to walk next to Jon.

Jon nodded slightly, more focused on getting his horse saddled than talking to his half brother.

"He's not going to die. I know it." Robb added.

"You Starks are hard to kill." Jon grunted.

"My mother?" Robb inquired.

"She was very kind." Jon half lied as he threw the horse saddle onto the horse.

"Good." Robb said. "Next time I see you, you'll be all in black."

"It was always my color." Jon said lightly.

"Farewell, Snow." Robb said.

"And you, Stark." Jon said.

They looked at each other briefly before pulling each other in for a tight hug. They didn't know when exactly they would be seeing each other again, if they would at all. Robb would be staying behind to be substitute Lord of Winterfell in his father's absence, and Jon off to The Wall. Although their mother's had been different, Jon and Robb were both still brothers. They shared the same father, growing up together and playing in the courtyard. They learned how to use a sword together, and got along well since they were so close in age. Only months apart. Robb was the first to pull away from the hug, and he swallowed hardly. He turned on his heel and left Jon to finish saddling his horse.

It was the last time Jon ever saw Robb again.

* * *

The group of people left mid-morning, heading to the Kingsroad that led back to the capital. Jon's horse followed in step behind bannermen of House Baratheon, examining the lands of Winterfell for the last time. He wouldn't be returning anytime soon, and was trying to enjoy the cool temperature while he still could. Up ahead, men started breaking off from the group to turn right towards the road that led to The Wall.

Jon's father had stopped at the split in the road, sitting on his white horse. He would be taking a left with the king and the group that marched for King's Landing to leave behind Winterfell as well.

Jon saw the only Baratheon prince riding on a horse break off from the group and trot ahead. The horse shook its head as it caught up to King Robert at the front of the men who were going back to King's Landing.

Jon stopped his horse next to his father, knowing this would also be the last time that he saw his father for a long time as well.

"There's great honor serving in the Night's Watch." Ned informed him. To Jon's father, everything was about honor with him. Jon looked ahead to his Uncle Benjen, who turned on his horse to look back at them.

"The Starks have manned The Wall for thousands of years." Ned said. "And you are a Stark. You may not have my name, but you have my blood."

"Is my mother alive?" Jon asked, a question he had asked Ned for years. "Does she know about me? Where I am? Where I'm going? Does she care?"

His father looked at him, "The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother. I promise."

Jon nodded, watching as his father kicked his horse to catch up with the party heading towards King's Landing. Jon stayed where he was on his horse, watching his father gallop ahead and disappear over the top of the small hill. He sighed and turned his horse towards where his Uncle Benjen was riding with the others towards the road that led to The Wall, making the distance between he and his father greater than ever before.


	3. 3

**Reviews and criticism welcome.**

* * *

**Eddard.**

* * *

The party that was heading for King's Landing stopped in a grassy field so that the king and the king's new Hand could eat. Well mostly the king, they had already stopped twice today to eat and drink. The carriage that contained three of the four Baratheon children had been stopped a ways away from where the king's seat and table was set up for them to eat, he claimed the sound and its presence annoyed him. The oldest Baratheon child who wasn't in the carriage was no where in sight, most likely off talking to other people. Noah didn't linger around his father very often. Even though their relationship with each other was better than with his other children, Robert and Noah still were not the closest that father and son could be.

After pissing on a nearby tree, Robert turned around to take in the view of the grassy field around him a little ways off the Kingsroad.

"Gods, this is country!

"I've half a mind to go with you." Ned replied casually.

"What do you say, just you and me on the Kingsroad, swords at our sides, a couple of tavern wenches to warm our beds tonight." Robert suggested, taking a bite of meat.

Ned smiled, "You should've asked me twenty years ago." he responded. Robert always suggested preposterous ideas that would never happen, this Kingsroad one being one of them.

"There were wars to fight, women to marry. Never had the chance to be young." Robert said, throwing some of the fat from the meat into the grass.

"I recall a few chances." Ned said mildly, scratching his growing whiskers while he thought back to their younger years.

Both Robert and Ned broke out into laughter, nostalgia of their younger years flooded back into their memories.

"There was that one… what was her name? That common girl of yours." Robert asked.

Ned wasn't surprised that Robert wasn't able to name one of the whores that he slept with from years ago much less someone that Ned had been with. He wouldn't have been surprised if Robert couldn't name the whore he slept with yesterday. He never seemed to remember any of them.

"Becca? With the great big tits that you could bury your face in?" Robert chuckled.

"Bessie." Ned corrected. "She was one of yours."

"Bessie!" Robert remembered. "Thank the Gods for Bessie, and her tits."

Both men broke out into laughter once again, their youth coming back to them as they relived their times together.

"Yours was...Aleena?" Robert guessed. The wine he had been drinking already must've clouded his brain. "No. You told me once. Meryl? Your bastard's mother?"

"Wylla." Ned said.

"That's it." Robert said. "Must've been a rare wench to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor. You never told me what she looked like."

"Nor will I." Ned responded, looking out at the field. The horses they were riding were being fed and watered, preparing them to ride again in a while.

"We were at war." Robert said, in attempts to comfort his friend. "None of us knew if we were going to go back home again. You're too hard on yourself, you always have been. I swear, if I weren't your king, you'd have hit me already."

"The worst thing about your coronation, I'll never get to hit you again." Ned said, a smiling creeping on his face.

"Trust me, that's not the worst thing." Robert said, taking out a note from his pocket and handed it across to Ned. "There was a rider in the night."

"Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord." Ned said, summarizing what the letter said. "What of it? Should we sent her a wedding gift?"

"A knife perhaps, a good sharp one. And a bold man to wield it." Robert said, taking a deep drink from his cup.

"She's little more than a child." Ned said.

"Soon enough that child will spread her legs and start breeding." Robert said.

"Tell me we're not speaking of this." Ned said.

"Oh, it's unspeakable to you?" Robert countered. "What her father did to your family, that was unspeakable. What Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister - the woman I loved. I'll kill every Targaryen I get my hands on."

"But you can't get your hands on this one, can you?" Ned pointed out.

The Targaryen girl was across the sea after all, it wasn't like Robert could just sail across and murder a girl surrounded by Dothraki. At the moment, she was virtually untouchable in the Seven Kingdoms.

"This Khal Drogo, it's said he has 100,000 men in his horde." Robert said.

"Even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm, as long as they remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea. The have no ships, Robert." Ned pointed out. The Dothraki were afraid of any water that their horses couldn't drink, there would be no way that they would ever think about crossing the Narrow Sea.

"There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usuper. If the Targaryen boy crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the scum will join him." Robert said.

"He will not cross. And if by chance he does, we'll throw him back into the sea." Ned said. Sometimes Robert was too stubborn for Ned's tastes.

"There's a war coming Ned." Robert said, picking up his cup once again. "I don't know when, I don't know who we'll be fighting, but it's coming."

* * *

**Sansa.**

* * *

The party ventured off the Kingsroad a few days later to rest at the Crossroads Inn. The climate was becoming warmer again as they ventured further south, and the whole village was doing its best to feed and bed King Robert and all the people that were with him. Sansa had decided to walk her direwolf Lady, who had been cramped up in a crate the whole day.

She saw Noah before he saw her. He was sitting on a crate nearby a butcher's tent, picking at the handle of the sword strapped to his waist. His dark brown hair glowed in the sunlight, making his hair seem brighter than usual. He wasn't wearing his armor today, and Sansa had witnessed his mother scolding him for not bringing anything else while she passed him a maroon doublet with gold trim. He was wearing it now, swinging one of his legs freely as he observed everything.

He looked over at her, and Sansa realized she had been staring for a little bit too long. She turned back around to keep walking, but was stopped by a disturbing looking bald man. He stared at her, not moving a fraction for the spot directly in front of Sansa.

"Pardon me, ser." she said. She always remembered her manners as her eyes flashed over to Noah.

In a swift motion he hopped off the crate and made his way towards her, frowning at the confrontation between Sansa and the man.

"Move along." Noah said, standing next to Sansa while nodding his head. When the man didn't move, Noah's frown grew. "Did you hear me? I said _move_."

The man made a guttural noise but soon stepped around the two and walked off in the opposite direction. Noah turned his head to watch the man walk away, finally turning back around to look at Sansa and then her direwolf.

"This one yours?" he asked, bending down to hold out his hand for the wolf pup to sniff.

"Yes. Her name's Lady." Sansa said, watching as Lady licked the back of his hand.

"The name suits her, she's a lot calmer than the rest of them." Noah said, patting the wolf's head before straightening back up. "I hope that man didn't bother you."

"Not terribly. Thank you for rescuing me." Sansa said gratefully.

"I did nothing heroic, my lady. He doesn't really talk much anymore since the Mad King had his tongue removed." Noah said, his eyes flashing to the side.

"He speaks damn well with his sword though." Sansa turned to see her betrothed and his hound approach them. His gallant blonde hair sparkled in the sun, and Sansa smiled upon his presence. "Ser Ilyn Payne, the King's Justice. The Royal Executioner."

Sansa became uneasy with The Hound staring at her like that, and she could see Noah cross his arms behind his back from the corner of her eye. Joffrey seemed to pick up on Sansa's uneasiness, his beautiful face frowning slightly.

"What is it, sweet lady?" Joffrey asked, touching Sansa's chin. "Does The Hound frighten you?"

He turned around to his burnt follower, "Away with you, dog." he commanded. "You're scaring my lady."

The Hound quickly bowed and left the three of them standing in the middle of the road. Noah sighed next to Sansa, looking down at her and his younger brother.

"I don't like to see you upset." Joffrey continued. It sometimes seemed that people around Noah didn't seem to realize that he was standing literally right there.

"The sun's finally shining." Joffrey commented, causing both Sansa and Noah to look up.

"It's a good thing you've finally noticed, brother." Noah mumbled, squinting as he looked up at the blue sky.

"What did you say?" Joffrey asked.

"Nothing. I was only commenting on the lack of clouds." Noah lied, but Sansa knew otherwise.

"Oh, well - Sansa, come walk with me." Joffrey said, nodding his head to the side. "It's best that you go, dear brother. Leave me and my lady to walk together."

"Of course." Noah said, obediently. He turned to Sansa and bowed. "My lady."

She watched him walk off, his hands still behind his back as he turned round a corner and disappeared from her vision. Joffrey was holding out his arm for Sansa to take, and Sansa's mind was already slipping away from Noah as her arm wrapped around Joffrey's.

* * *

Joffrey had already been drinking a lot since they had walked...well it was a lot to Sansa. She had never had as much wine as Joffrey was drinking before, but then again she wasn't allowed to have that much anyway. Joffrey took another long sip from the wineskin that he had brought along, and turned around to offer some to Sansa as they walked up the edge of the river that was passing by.

"I probably shouldn't have anymore." Sansa said, and Joffrey raised his eyebrow. Sansa saying no was just not going to do for Joffrey. "Father only lets us have one cup at feasts."

"My princess can drink as much as she wants." Joffrey said, holding out the wineskin to her again. Sansa almost protested that she didn't want anymore but felt that she would disappoint Joffrey by admitting that.

She took another sip before deciding to give it back to Joffrey. But Joffrey had turned his attention away from Sansa, and Sansa heard the unmistakable clapping of wood. It was almost rhythmic, and it reminded Sansa of people sword fighting. She wondered what it could possibly be, but Joffrey had turned back around to her as he began to walk backwards.

"Don't worry, you're safe with me." he assured her as he went to go investigate the noise.

As they approached the noise, Sansa realized that it was her little sister and some commoner boy. Did the girl have any shame? What was she doing messing around with a stinky commoner boy who probably hadn't bathed in months.

"Arya!" Sansa called to her, outraged that her sister was participating in manly acts.

While Arya turned around to look at them, the common boy promptly swatted her on the arm with the stick he was holding. Arya yelped in pain and the boy stepped back slightly as Joffrey and Sansa approached the scene.

"What are you doing here?" Arya asked. "Go away!"

"Your sister?" Joffrey asked. Sansa didn't want to admit that Arya was her sister, but she thought Joffrey would know who Sansa's sister was by looking at her. He had seen her a few times, but he couldn't make the connection?

Sansa nodded, as Joffrey turned to look at the boy playing with Arya.

"And who are you, boy?" Joffrey asked.

"Mycah, m'lord." the boy said, looking nervously at the ground upon realization that he was in the presence of a prince.

"He's the butcher's boy." Sansa said.

"He's my friend." Arya protested.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, eh?" Joffrey asked, seeming to take great pleasure in making fun of the boy. Joffrey immediately drew his own sword and held it in his right hand. "Pick up your sword butcher's boy, let's see how good you are."

"She asked me to, m'lord. She asked me to." Mycah protested.

"I'm your prince, not your lord. And I said, pick up your sword." Joffrey said slowly.

"It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick." Mycah said nervously.

"And you're not a knight. Only a butcher's boy." Joffrey said, raising his sword to the butcher's boy's cheek. "That was my lady's sister you were hitting, did you know that?"

"Stop it!" Arya hissed.

"Arya, stay out of this." Sansa said, backing up Joffrey's actions. She was just mad that Arya would be practicing things like sword play.

"I won't hurt him," Joffrey said. "much."

The butcher's boy began to whimper as Joffrey began to draw a line down the boy's cheek with his sword. It began to bleed and Joffrey began to grin sadistically before Arya did something unexpectedly and smacked Joffrey in the back with the wooden stick she was holding. Joffrey almost fell to the ground but straightened up to round on Arya, carelessly swiping at her head with his sword.

"Filthy little bitch!" Joffrey yelled, the sound of the sword swooshed through the air as the boy fled and Arya ducked around swing.

"No no, stop it! Stop it both of you!" Sansa yelled as Joffrey and Arya continued to fight. "You're spoiling it! You're spoiling everything!"

"I'll gut you, you little cunt!" Joffrey threatened, standing over Arya with his sword to her face.

Coming out from the river, Arya's wolf Nymeria came to rescue Arya. She sprinted towards Arya's pursuer and jumped towards Joffrey. Sharp teeth sunk into Joffrey's sword arm, easily disarming him as the wolf held onto Joffrey's arm. He screamed and fell to the ground as Nymeria continued to ravish his arm.

"Nymeria!" Arya called, standing up to grab Joffrey's sword and pull Nymeria off of Joffrey's arm.

Joffrey's arm was full of blood as he whimpered on the ground. The sword in Arya's hand was pointed at Joffrey, and he pleaded for his life like Arya was about to stab him in the heart. Sansa watched from a few feet away, not wanting the thought of Arya stabbing Joffrey to enter Arya's mind.

"Arya, leave him alone!" Sansa said sternly.

Arya slowly backed away from Joffrey and walked towards the river. Sansa watched as Arya stepped back and flung the sword into the river. It landed with a sploosh into the flowing water, and it was probably the last time that Joffrey would be seeing his beloved sword.

Before neither Joffrey nor Sansa could do anything, Arya and Nymeria took off running back towards the Crossroads Inn. Sansa and Joffrey were alone once again, and Sansa quickly moved to bend down next to Joffrey.

"My prince, my poor prince. Look what they did to you." Sansa said, Joffrey's blood still oozing down his hand. "Stay here, I'll go back to the inn and bring help."

"Then go!" Joffrey yelled at her, making Sansa jump back in surprise. "Don't touch me."

Her prince had never been so harsh to her before, and his hard tone startled Sansa. Perhaps it was only because he had just been badly injured by a wolf.

* * *

**Noah.**

* * *

They had been searching for Arya for three hours, climbing trees and looking down by the river. Every dog and guard were out looking for her with large torchers. Guards from all three Houses scavenged the woods around the Crossroads, and Noah himself even joined in to help Lord Eddard find his missing daughter and her direwolf. It was well past dark now, and the search had still not given up. Not that they would, Ned would make sure to find his daughter.

Noah was holding a torch well above his head as he walked through the woods, calling Arya's name loudly every few seconds. There was an uprooted tree a little ways in front of him, and no guards were in sight. He approached cautiously and yelled Arya's name again as he shined a light on the tree. Two eyes looked up at him as he made his way towards the tree, and some made out a face in the orange light.

"Arya!" Noah said, bending down next to the tree. "What are you doing down there?"

"The queen!" she almost cried. "The queen's going to hurt me for hurting Joffrey!"

Noah sighed, and looked at the frightened girl. "She's not going to hurt you. Everyone's been looking for you for hours. Your lord father has been worried sick about you. Come on."

He grunted as he stood back up and helped Arya out from under the roots of the tree. In one swift movement, he scooped up Arya and held her on the opposite arm that he was holding the torch in. Arya didn't protest as Noah carried her back, and she was skinny enough that carrying her felt like nothing at all.

Two Lannister guards approached Noah as he carried Arya back to the camp. The torches in their hands were held out to light up Noah and Arya's face more. Arya was holding onto his neck, tightening at the sight of the other House's guards.

"My prince, have you found her?" one of them asked, nodding towards Arya on his arm.

"Yes. Notify her lord father immediately while I escort her back to the inn. I assume my father would like to talk to her." Noah said, and one of them went to go find someone to tell Ned Stark that they had found his daughter.

"Your parents are going to hurt me. Nymeria really hurt your brother." Arya said nervously as Noah continued to walk back to where the inn was.

"Don't worry, little one. It's not like you'll be sentenced to die or anything too rash. They probably just want to hear your side of the story, that's all." Noah reassured her as he boosted her up on his side.

Noah brought her into the inn and to where his father was seated with his mother. He placed Arya down at a bench in the makeshift courtroom, and walked over to stand next to his mother, who placed a hand on his arm.

"Was she hurt?" Cersei whispered to her oldest son.

"No. She had been hiding under an uprooted tree for probably three hours." Noah said back. "How is Joffrey?"

Cersei's jaw tightened as she looked at Joffrey with his hand wrapped in linen, "His cuts are deep. The Stark girl must pay for the wounds on your brother."

Ned Stark entered the room five minutes later, pushing by people Lannister guards who had followed Noah into the room when he was carrying Arya back to the Inn. Arya immediately turned around to look at her father and grabbed onto him once he got through the whole crowd.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she said quickly.

"Are you hurt?" Ned asked his daughter, cupping her face with his hands.

"No." Arya said.

"It's alright." Ned said, hugging his daughter tightly.

Noah watched with almost envy at the sight, he wished he had a relationship like that with his father the king. Sometimes he didn't talk to his father for days in between, sometimes Jaime seemed more of a fatherly figure than his own father.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ned asked, turning to Noah and his family as he released his daughter from their tight hug. "Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?"

"How dare you speak to your king in that manner." Cersei spoke up.

"Quiet, woman." Robert snapped. "Sorry Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl. But we need to get this business done quickly."

"Your girl and that butcher's boy nearly attacked my son." Cersei explained. "That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off."

"That's not true!" Arya spoke up. "She just... bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah."

"Joff told us what happened." Cersei said. "You and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him."

Noah looked at his mother glare at Arya, Cersei's motherly nature really shining through. Her children really were her prized possessions, like many people told Noah. He had never noticed how true they were until now.

"That's not what happened!" Arya protested.

"Yes it is!" Joffrey said. "They all attacked me and she threw my sword in the river."

"Liar!"

"Shut up!" Joffrey countered.

For a sixteen-year-old boy, Joffrey did argue like a child sometimes. He was stooping to the insults of a girl five years younger than him. Shut up, really?

"Enough!" Robert said, loudly. "He tells me one thing, she tells me another. Seven hells! What am I to make of this? Where's your other daughter, Ned?"

"In bed asleep." Ned responded.

"She's not." Cersei said. "Sansa, come here, darling."

Sansa stepped out from the crowd and approached the king and queen of Westeros. Robert motioned for her to step closer. He commanded Sansa to tell her what had happened, and Noah wasn't sure what exactly Sansa was going to say. Noah hadn't been at the river when it happened, so he could only guess what the actual story was.

"I don't know." Sansa said. "I don't remember. Everything happened so fast. I didn't see-"

"Liars!" Arya screamed again, this time reaching up to pull on her sister's hair.

Noah raised his eyebrows as Ned tried to get his youngest daughter off of Sansa and to release her red hair. His mother next to him smiled slightly, and Noah wondered if she was amused by the small fight.

"She's as wild as that animal of hers." Cersei commented. "I want her punished."

"What would you have me do? Whip her through the streets?" Robert asked. "Damn it, children fight! It's over."

"Joffrey will bear these scars for the rest of his life." Cersei said.

"And? Scars build character. You didn't make as big of a deal when our oldest got one across his chest when he was fourteen." Robert said to the queen. He turned to his son Joffrey and glared, "You let that little girl disarm you?"

Joffrey looked away, clearly embarrassed by what his father had said.

"Looks like there will be only one Baratheon in this family that can handle a sword." Robert grunted, adding more insult to Joffrey. "Ned, see to it that your daughter is disciplined. I'll do the same with my son."

"Gladly, Your Grace."

"And what of the direwolf?" Cersei asked. "What of the beast that savaged your son?"

"I forgot the damned wolf." Robert sighed.

"We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace." one of the Lannister guards informed.

"No? So be it." Robert said, turning to leave the room.

"We have another wolf." Cersei said.

Noah frowned, what other wolf? Right now his mother seemed hell bent on seeking vengeance for her son since disciplining Ned's daughter probably wasn't good enough for her. She sometimes went to the extremes to make an example of someone or something.

"As you will." Robert nodded, taking a few steps towards the door.

"You can't mean it." Ned protested to his friend.

"A direwolf's no pet." Robert pointed out. "Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it."

"He doesn't mean Lady does he?" Sansa asked her father. "No, no, not Lady. Lady didn't bite anyone. She's good!"

Noah had never heard of Sansa raising her voice angrily like that, and he felt bad to see the hurt flash in her eyes. He shifted uneasily in his spot next to his mother as both girls yelled in protest at them.

"Please, please! It wasn't Lady!" Sansa yelled.

"Mother, I don't think this is a good idea." Noah spoke up, noticing his brother's smirking face.

"Is this your command?" Ned asked the king. "Your Grace?"

Robert didn't say anything, instead he left the room and slammed the door behind him. It left Ned in the room and the ominous feeling that someone was going to have to take care of that wolf.

"Where is the beast?" Cersei asked, ignoring her oldest son's comment.

"Chained up outside, Your Grace." the Lannister guard answered quickly.

Cersei turned to the man that had frightened Sansa earlier that day. "Ser Ilyn, do me the honor."

"No." Ned said abruptly. "Jory...take the girls to their rooms. If it must be done, I'll do it myself."

"Is this some trick?" Cersei asked.

"The wolf is of the North." Ned said. "She deserves better than a butcher."


	4. 4

**The story will start to become a bit different from the series not that they are back in King's Landing. I know Noah seems a bit in the background at the moment, but his story truly begins when he leaves the castle with his grandfather in a few chapters. He'll get more interesting then. **

**For now, Noah seems very brainwashed and wanting to please everyone with the last name Lannister, but that will change as the story progresses I promise you.**

* * *

**Eddard.**

* * *

When they arrived at King's Landing, everyone beyond the tall sand walls came to see their king return from his journey. Ned hadn't been to King's Landing in a long time, only vaguely remembering pieces from Robert's Rebellion, but even that seemed like very long ago now. The palm trees shook slightly in the breeze, and everything had a yellow hue to it. The heat made wearing his riding leathers uncomfortable, and the white horse he was riding was panting beneath him.

They slowed down and finally stopped, Ned wasted no time dismounting and hastily gave the reins of his horse to one of the servants nearby. He looked back at the carriage that was carrying his daughters and their Septa. Sansa was looking around with a pleased look on her face, squinting in the sunlight like everyone else. Somehow she even made squinting look graceful. Her auburn hair shined brilliantly in the sun, it was as if she belonged in the South. Her hair never shined like that while they were in the North. Her younger sister Arya was also squinting and admiring the large castle, her mouth slightly agape unlike her older sister. She twitched in her seat, probably getting antsy from having to sit for most of the day.

As he walked towards the doors of the castle, a man approached him. He had an odd face, and his hair was wet with sweat. His outfit did look like it was taking in a lot of the heat from the sun, wearing mostly black in King's Landing could make anyone die from heat exhaustion.

"Welcome, Lord Stark." the man said, bowing curtly as Ned approached. "Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the small council. The honor of your presence is requested."

Ned hadn't even been in King's Landing properly for five minutes and he already starting his duty as the King's Hand. They had been riding all day, surely the small council meeting could have waited until the follow. Not having the energy to argue, especially with knowing the consequences, he turned around to look at the carriage that was pulling Jory, his daughters, and their Septa.

"Get the girls settled in, I'll be back in time for supper." Ned commanded. "And Jory, you go with them."

"If you'd like to change into something more appropriate…" the man said, nodding at Ned's uncomfortable dark riding leathers.

Ned stared at him as he removed his riding gloves, his hands already starting to cool down from being trapped inside the hot leather. He followed the man inside the castle, which was only slightly cooler than the outside was. The halls were sparkling, the marble gleamed in the sunlight as they went through door after door protected by Baratheon guards in yellow capes, until finally they reached the throne room.

The only person inside was Jaime Lannister, sitting on the steps that led to the Iron Throne. It was a great contrast, Jaime's shining golden armor next to the twisted iron swords that made up the throne. The throne was beyond ugly, but held a sort of power that made everyone in Westeros want to sit upon it, everyone but Robert's oldest.

"Thank the Gods you're here, Stark." Jaime said, while Ned tried to avoid his gaze as he approached.

"About time we had some stern northern leadership."

"Glad to see you're protecting the throne." Ned said, looking at Jaime as he sauntered his way towards Ned.

"Sturdy old thing." Jaime said. "How many Kings' asses have polished it, I wonder? Um, what's the line? The king shits and the hand wipes."

Ned stared blankly at Jaime. His insult although well delivered, did not even put a damper in Ned's already low mood.

"Very handsome armor." Ned commented, anything else he wanted to say would have not been very kind. "Not a scratch on it."

"I know." Jaime said, quickly. "People have been swinging at me for years, and they always seem to miss."

"You've chosen your opponents wisely then." Ned pointed out.

"I have a knack for it." Jaime said softly.

The two watched each other for a few moments, as if they were sizing the other one up. Jaime with his attractive face and glistening armor, while Ned's face was aged with war and other circumstances in his riding leathers that made him smell like a pig.

"It must be strange for you coming into this room." Jaime said. "I was standing right here when it happened. He was very brave, your brother. Your father too."

Of course Jaime had to bring up his late relatives, Jaime seemed to always bring up things that he knew he could hit a soft spot on the person he was talking to.

"They didn't deserve to die like that." Jaime stated. "Nobody deserves to die like that."

"But you just stood there and watched." Ned replied.

"Five hundred men just stood there and watched." Jaime pointed out. "All the great knights of the seven kingdoms - you think anyone said a word? Lifted a finger? No, Lord Stark. Five hundred men and this room was as silent as a crypt. Except for the screams of course...and the Mad King laughing."

There was that bit again where it was equivalent to someone twisting a knife in Ned's chest. Jaime knew just what to say to people, and his father and brother's death was not something that Ned took lightly.

"And later when I watched the Mad King die, I remembered him laughing as he watched your father burned." Jaime said. "It felt like justice."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" Ned asked. Jaime clearly did not expect that answer from Ned, and he raised his eyebrows as he watched the Hand of the King. "You're a servant of justice? That you were avenging my father when you shoved your sword in Aerys Targaryen's back?"

"Tell me - if I stabbed the Mad King in the belly instead of the back, would you admire me more?" Jaime asked.

"You served him well, when serving was safe." Ned said, leaving towards the small council room without another word spoken.

Upon arriving, the table that was set for the small council did not include the king, who was probably running behind. Lord Varys, who was sitting at the table in pale green, rose to his feet to greet Ned.

"Lord Stark." Varys said, holding out his hands to shake Ned's.

"Lord Varys." Ned replied cordially.

"I was grievously sorry to hear of your troubles on the Kingsroad." Varys said, but for some reason he didn't sound very sorry. "We are all praying for Prince Joffrey's full recovery."

"A shame you didn't say a prayer for the butcher's son." Ned said, pulling his hand from Varys's to take his seat on the small council table.

"Renly!" Ned said, upon seeing Robert's youngest brother. "You're looking well."

"And you look tired from the road." Renly responded, as he hugged Ned. "I told them this meeting could wait another day, but-"

"But we have a kingdom to look after." a man spoke up, who had been standing off to the side since Ned arrived in the room. "I've hoped to meet you for some time, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me."

"She has, Lord Baelish." Ned said. "I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well."

"All too well. I still carry a token of his esteem, from navel to collarbone." Lord Baelish said, pointing to his chest and neck.

"Perhaps you chose the wrong man to duel with." Ned remarked, smiling slightly.

"It wasn't the man that I chose, my lord. It was Catelyn Tully." Petyr said, as Ned's smile faded. "A woman worth fighting for, I'm sure you'll agree."

"I humbly beg your pardon," Grand Maester Pycelle spoke up. "How many years has it been? You were a young man."

"And you served another king." Ned responded.

"Oh, how forgetful of me." Pycelle said, digging through his robe's pockets for something. He pulled out a large pin, and held it out for Ned to see. "This belongs to you now."

The pin was of a gold hand, the pin that the Hand of the King wore all the time to signify his position.

"Should we begin?" Pycelle asked, as everyone around him moved to take their seats around the table.

"Without the king?" Ned asked, looking around at everyone.

"Winter may be coming, but I'm afraid the same cannot be said for my brother." Renly said, sitting down. Robert was probably off eating dates and plums to celebrate his arrival back to King's Landing, and it oddly did not surprise Ned anymore. Ned hoped that their would not be another feast for the King's arrival, he didn't know how many he would be able to take.

"His Grace has many cares." Varys spoke up. "He entrusts some small matters to us that we might lighten the load."

"We are the Lords of small matters here." Petyr said, as Renly held out a letter for Ned to take from his hand.

Ned took it tentatively, and unrolled it to read what was written on the inside.

"My brother instructs us to stage a tournament in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of the King." Renly said, and Ned internally groaned. He should've known that one of these was coming, Robert always found an excuse for a tournament or a feast.

"Mmm, how much?" Petyr asked, they all knew that this tournament was not going to be a cheap one.

"40,000 Gold Dragons to the champion. 20,000 to the runner up, and 20,000 to the winning archer." Ned read off.

"Can the treasury bear such expense?" Pycelle asked, his face clearly astounded by the amount of money they were going to need for this tournament.

"I'll have to borrow it. The Lannisters will accommodate, I expect." Petyr said. "We already owe Lord Tywin three million gold, what's another eighty thousand?"

"Are you telling me the crown is three million in debt?" Ned asked, shocked that Robert could've done that in his reign already.

"I'm telling you the crown is six million in debt." Petyr corrected.

"How could you let this happen?" Ned asked.

"The Master of Coin finds the money. The King and The Hand spend it." Petyr said.

"I will not believe the Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm." Ned said sternly.

"Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I fear His Grace doesn't always listen." the Maester said.

"'Counting coppers', he calls it." Renly said.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow. This tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford." Ned said, rolling up the scroll.

"As you will, but still. We best make our plans." Petyr said.

"There will be no plans." Ned interrupted. "Until I speak to Robert."

The men looked around at each other upon Ned raising his voice, clearly it wasn't something that they were used to. Ned, realizing what he had done, leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"Forgive me, my lords. I had a long ride." Ned apologized.

"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark." Varys said. "We serve at your pleasure."

* * *

**Noah.**

* * *

Noah had finally gotten rid of his hot riding leathers, and was in pale blue like his mother and brother. Noah was sitting on one of the window sills, his back being hit by the wind whenever it blew by as he watched his mother changed Joffrey's bandages. Their blonde hair glistened brightly in the sun, just like how it used to before. Noah's dark brown hair never shined like his siblings or his mother, and never would.

"Ow!" Joffrey exclaimed, trying to rip his arm back from his mother's grasp as she dabbed healing cream onto the closing wound.

"Please, it's nearly healed." their mother said, as she dabbed the other spot. Even though Joffrey was only a year younger than him, he still acted like a child sometimes. Younger than Tommen even.

"It's ugly." Joffrey said, looking at his scar. It was Joffrey's first scar, unlike Noah. He didn't expect Joffrey to resent the scars that he had on his body, most men wore them with pride.

"It's only a scar." Noah said, watching Joffrey shoot him a look.

"A King should have scars, look at your brother Noah." Cersei said, as she wrapped his healing wound in cloth. "You fought off a direwolf. You're a warrior like your father and your brother."

"I'm not like them." Joffrey said, as Noah hopped down from the window sill and walked towards his mother's side. Joffrey looked up at him as Noah rested a hand on the back of his mother's chair to watch her wrap Joffrey's arm. "I didn't fight off anything. It bit me and all I did was scream. And the two Stark girls saw it, both of them."

Noah almost felt bad for his younger brother, just because he wasn't as athletically inclined as other boys his age and couldn't properly handle a sword. His cockiness that he got from the Lannister's seemed to be what was damaging Joffrey, thinking he was excellent when in reality his skills were anept. His stubbornness also got in the way of practicing his skills.

"That's not true. You killed the beast." Cersei assured him. "You only spared the girl because of the love your father bears her father."

Noah's hand on his mother's chair tightened, what his mother was saying didn't seem to add up. From what he understood, Joffrey didn't do anything at all. Why was their mother trying to make Joffrey sound like he had done something heroic? Sparing the girl? Joffrey's sword was at the bottom of the river, and it had been Ned who killed Sansa's direwolf.

Joffrey seemed to realize that too, and immediately spoke up. "I didn't, I-"

"When Aerys Targaryen sat on the Iron Thrones, your father was a rebel and a traitor." Cersei said, tying the cloth as she looked at Joffrey. "Someday you'll sit on the thrones and the truth will be what you make it."

"The throne was never supposed to be for me, Noah-" Joffrey protested.

"Was supposed to be heir." Noah finished for him, as he walked around the table. "But I abdicated, so it's your responsibility now to protect the realm when our father dies. And one day, I'll be sworn to protect you."

"Yes. And you'll wear gold armor just like your uncle." Cersei said, looking up at her older son as she stroked his arm lovingly. "My two oldest boys will make a great king, and a great knight."

"Do I have to marry her?" Joffrey asked, and it took a moment for Noah to realize who exactly Joffrey was talking about.

"Yes." Cersei replied. "She's very beautiful, and young. And if you don't like her, you only need to see her on formal occasions. And when the time comes, to make little princes and princesses."

Joffrey did not seem persuaded by what their mother had to say. If Noah was Joffrey, he would've married Sansa Stark with no hesitation. Well, if he didn't abdicate he could be the one marrying Sansa, not his brother. Curse his luck.

"And if you'd rather fuck painted whores, you'll fuck painted whores." Cersei added. "And if you'd rather lie with noble virgins, so be it. You are my darling boy and the world will be exactly as you want it to be."

A small smile formed on Joffrey's lips, and Noah watched as mother and son had their moment. Noah hadn't gotten a 'darling boy' from their mother in years. Even though he knew that she was still proud of him and his accomplishments, he still missed the loving affection she seemed to only reserve for her middle son Joffrey.

"Do something nice for the Stark girl." Cersei said, as she leaned back.

"I don't want to." Joffrey protested.

"No, but you will." Cersei said, as Joffrey stood up. "The occasional kindness will spare you all sorts of trouble down the road."

"We allow the Northerners too much power." Joffrey said, as Noah went back to leaning on his mother's chair from behind. "They consider themselves our equals."

"How would you handle them?" Cersei asked, and Noah was just as interested to hear how Joffrey would handle the situation. Would he be able to think like a king and make good decisions? He was going to be doing it someday after all.

Joffrey thought for a second, "I'd double their taxe. And command them to supply 10,000 men to the Royal Army."

"A Royal Army?" Cersei asked.

"Why should every Lord command his own men?" Joffrey asked. "It's primitive, no better than the hill tribes. We should have a standing army of men loyal to the crown, trained by experienced soldiers instead of a mob of peasants who've never held pikes in their lives.

"And if the Northerners rebel?" Noah spoke up, Cersei's chair creaked as he pushed more weight onto it.

"I'd crush them. Seize Winterfell and install someone loyal to the realm as Warden of the North. Uncle Kevan, maybe." Joffrey said.

"And these 10,000 troops, would they fight for you or their Lord?" Cersei asked.

"For me. I'm their king." Joffrey said sternly.

"But you've just invaded their homeland, asked them to kill their brothers."

"I'm not asking." Joffrey said, shaking his head.

"The North cannot be held, not by an outsider. It's too big and too wild." Cersei said, standing up. "And when winter comes, the seven Gods together couldn't save you and your Royal Army. A good king knows when to save his strength...and when to destroy his enemies."

"So you both agree?" Joffrey asked, looking to his mother and brother for support. He stood in front of Noah and his mother, trying to search their eyes for some sort of confirmation. "The Starks are enemies?"

Cersei looked down at her son's hands and took one from both boy's in hers. Noah's rough large tan hand and Joffrey's smooth paler one looked like great contrast in her two hands. She squeezed both of them fondly, and looked up into both their eyes.

"Everyone who isn't us is an enemy." Cersei said, her son's looking back at her like she could tell no lie.

* * *

He didn't know why he was in his father's room, it was extremely pointless to him. All his father was doing was eating and drinking wine while Noah's cousin stood off to the side with a pitcher to refill the glass whenever Rober pleased. Noah had never been close with his cousin Lancel Lannister at all, when they were young boys he remembered wanting to chop of Lancel's long blonde hair since it was down to his shoulders. Noah couldn't complain much about Lancel's long hair, since his hair had gotten pretty long on their journey to and from Winterfell. He had only recently cut off part of his hair, getting it back to the ear length wavy hair that he usually kept it.

The only other person besides his father, his squire, and Noah was Ser Barristan the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He had been serving for over forty years, and his gold armor was scratched and dinged in various places, unlike his Uncle Jaime's. Noah didn't have armor anywhere near as nice as the Kingsguard armor, at least in his eyes. Even though it was getting to be dinner, he hadn't put on his armor and practiced all day. In fact, he had been exhausted for most of it, and sleeping on his bed again was going to feel spectacular.

"Yes, it's been a long time." Robert spoke up, tilting his wine glass to see the last of the summer wine sploosh around inside. "But I still remember the face."

Noah's eyebrows furrowed. He hated when people spoke out of context, expecting the person who the comment was aimed at to immediately know what they were talking about. The men in the room remained silent, unaware of how to respond to the king.

"You remember your first?" Robert asked, looking at Ser Barristan.

"Of course, Your Grace." Ser Barristan said, walking towards the middle of the room near Noah.

"Who was it?" Robert asked.

"A Tyroshi." he replied. "Never learned the name."

"How'd you do it?" Robert asked.

"Lance through the heart." Ser Barristan said, almost sadly.

"Quick one." Robert grunted. "What about you Noah?"

"I was Lord Tywin's squire." Noah said, looking towards one of the walls as he remembered. "The camp was under attack and I was in his tent when a boy about my age burst in with his long sword out, almost swinging it madly as he cut over the cloth of the tent. He was a brave boy, or a cocky one who thought he could kill Tywin Lannister and be a hero. He wouldn't have been able to even if I hadn't been there, he didn't even have proper armor on. We both looked into each other's eyes, and for a brief moment I thought he was going to fight back. But he froze, and by the time I had slashed my sword at him, my blade cut into his side so easily, like butter. I just remember distinctly the pain in his green eyes as he fell to the ground, still looking at me in shock as blood gushed from his mouth and the life left his eyes."

"Unfortunate." Robert said, interrupting Noah from his memory. "Mine was some Tarly boy at the Battle of Summerhall. My horse took an arrow so I was on foot. Slogging through the mud, he came running at me. This dumb high-born lad, thinking he could end the rebellion with a swing of his sword."

Noah and Ser Barristan listened intently at Robert's story, Robert recounting it like it had happened yesterday.

"I knocked him down with the hammer. Gods, I was strong then." Robert said. "Caved in his breastplate. Probably shattered every rib he had. Stood over him, hammer in the air. Right before I brought it down he shouted, 'Wait! Wait.'"

Robert chuckled, and Noah's fists tightened on how awful it must've been for the high-born who was stupid enough to go after his father.

"They never tell you how they all shit themselves." Robert said. "They don't put that part in the songs."

Noah looked at Ser Barristan, who was watching his father with a saddened expression, and then to Lancel who was clutching the wine pitcher with white knuckles.

"Now the Tarly's bend their knee like everyone else." Robert said. "He could've lingered at the edge of the battle with the smart boys. And today his wife would be making him miserable, his sons would be ingrates, and he'd be waking three times in the night to piss into a bowl. Wine!"

Lancel jumped slightly at King Robert's thunderous voice, clearly startled by the sudden rise in his voice. Lancel stepped forward and pour the last mouthful of wine into Robert's glass.

"Lancel." Robert said. "Gods, what a stupid name. Lancel Lannister. Who named you? Some halfwit with a stutter?"

Robert snickered at his insult, and Noah looked at Lancel's tightening face. Noah kept his facial expression blank as he watched his father bully his cousin, having no power to do anything about it.

"Noah Baratheon. See that's a name that will make people tremble upon hearing it, _King_ Noah Baratheon would've made men piss their pants. But I guess Ser Noah Baratheon is the best I'm going to get from you."

Lacel continued to stand their in his red cape and long blonde hair, gripping the handle tightly in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Robert asked, looking at Lancel who was still standing there.

"It's empty, Your Grace." Lancel spoke up.

"What do you mean it's empty?" Robert asked.

"There's no more wine." Lancel said quickly.

"Is that what empty means?" Robert asked, his voice raising and angry. "So get more."

Lancel left in a hurry, fleeing the room to fetch more wine for the king. Noah felt bad for him too, his father seemed to pick on everyone. Lancel was doing his best to satisfy the king by bringing him endless food and wine until Robert was full.

"Tell your cousin to get in here!" Robert yelled to Lancel, referring to Jaime who was standing guard outside the door. "Kingslayer! Get in here!"

Jaime Lannister entered the King's chambers, looking at Ser Barristan and Noah as he walked in slowly. Lancel closed the door behind him so that they could quickly run to get more wine.

"Surrounded by Lannisters." Robert commented. "Everytime I close my eyes I see their blonde hair, and their smug satisfied faces."

Jaime opened his mouth to respond, but Robert beat him to it. "It must ruin your pride, huh? Standing out there like a glorified sentry. Jaime Lannister, son of the mighty Tywin. Forced to mind the door while your king eats and drinks and shits and fucks. You see what you're going to get yourself into Noah? You should've kept the Crown Prince title while you still had the chance."

"So come on, we're telling war stories." Robert said. "Who was your first kill? Not counting old men."

"One of the outlaws in the brotherhood." Jaime said.

"I was there that day, you were only a squire. Sixteen years old." Ser Barristan admired."

"You killed Simon Toyne with a counter riposte." Jaime said. "Best move I ever saw."

"A good fighter, Toyne." Barristan said. "But he lacked stamina."

"Your outlaw, any last words?" Robert asked.

"I cut his head off, so no." Jaime responded.

"What about Aerys Targaryen?" Robert pressed. "What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back? I never asked."

Noah looked at Jaime, trying to remember if Jaime ever did properly tell him the story of how he killed the Mad King.

"Did he call you a traitor?" Robert asked. "Did he plead for a reprieve?"

"He said the same thing he had been saying for hours...'burn them all.'" Jaime almost whispered. "If that's all, Your Grace…"

Jaime bowed to both Robert and Ser Barristan, even bowing slightly to Noah before exiting the now silent room, leaving each man to contemplate his thoughts on Jaime's reveal on what the Mad King said.


	5. 5

**Sansa.**

* * *

"Someday, your husband will sit there." Septa Mordane told her as they walked towards the intimidating Iron Throne. "And you will sit by his side."

It was the darkest thing in the throne room, the steel contrasting with the yellow sunlight that spread throughout the designs on the marble floor to the vine covered pillars. Sansa understood why King Robert avoided sitting on the Iron Throne, and why Noah had chosen to abdicate. She remembered Noah saying something about how it looked, and didn't realize how right he was until she got a first glimpse at it. She tried to imagine Joffrey sitting on the throne, knowing that he would be occupying the seat one day in the future since Noah decided not to. Oddly, imagining Noah on the throne seemed better than imagining Joffrey, even though the day would never come where Noah would wear a crown on his head and sit on the throne.

"And one day, before too long, you will present your son to the court." she continued. "All the lords of Westeros will gather here to see the little prince."

Sansa tried not to shift uncomfortably in her blue dress. Joffrey and Noah had been wearing shirts in the same color, and thought it was suitable to match them...or Joffrey more in particular. Maybe then he would talk to her, since he had been ignoring her since Arya's dog had bit him back on the Kingsroad. Noah was the only Baratheon son to talk to her and keep her company, sometimes Princess Myrcella wasn't allowed out of the carriage and usually Joffrey and the queen were in there. Sansa definitely did not want to be around them, especially after the queen had ordered someone to butcher her wolf Lady.

"What if I have a girl?" Sansa asked, the thought occurring to her.

"Gods be good, you'll have boys and girls and plenty of them." Septa Mordane said.

"What if I only have girls?" Sansa asked, staring at the ugly Iron Throne.

"I wouldn't worry about that." her septa assured her.

"Jeyne Poole's mother had five children - all of them girls." Sansa pointed out. It was true that her best friend had only sisters, so it was possible to do so.

"Yes. But it's highly unlikely." Septa Mordane said.

"But _what if_?" Sansa stressed.

Her septa sighed, "Well, if you only have girls I suppose the throne would pass to Prince Joffrey's little brother."

"And everyone would hate me." Sansa concluded.

"Nobody could ever hate you." Septa Mordane said.

"Joffrey does." Sansa said, finally tearing her eyes away from the Iron Throne.

"Nonsense!" Septa Mordane said. "Why would you say such a thing? That business with the wolves? Sansa, I've told you a hundred times; a direwolf is not-"

"Please just shut up about it!" Sansa snapped, not wanting to hear the same statement over again for the one hundredth time. Before Septa Mordane could say anything else, she turned to walk out of the throne room before the ominous throne made her any more anxious.

"Do you remember your lessons?" Septa Mordane asked, causing Sansa to stop and turn around. "Who built the Iron Throne?"

"Aegon the Conqueror." Sansa replied.

"And who built the Red Keep?"

"Maekar the Cruel." Sansa responded, wondering how this was proving anything other than she memorized who had ordered to build what in King's Landing.

"And how many years did it take to build-"

"My grandfather and uncle were murdered here, weren't they?" Sansa interrupted, looking at the spot where it most likely happened.

"They were killed on the orders of King Aerys, yes." Septa Mordane admitted.

"The Mad King." Sansa said.

"Commonly known as The Mad King."

"Why were they killed?" Sansa asked.

"You should speak to your father about these things." Septa Mordane said.

"I don't want to speak to my father, ever." Sansa said, her only company that she didn't completely loathe had been Noah. He spent time with her whenever he could, and made good company. She didn't need to make amends with her father when she had him in the Red Keep.

"Sansa, you will find it in your heart to forgive your father." Septa Mordane said.

"No I won't."

* * *

**Eddard.**

* * *

""It's The Hand's Tournament that's causing all this trouble, my lords."

"The king's tournament. I assure you, The Hand wants no part of it." Ned said, shifting in his uncomfortable chair.

"Call it what you will, Lord Stark sir, The city is packed with people and more flooding in every day." the man said. "Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings, and a drunken horse race down The Street of Sisters."

"Dreadful." Varys said, shaking his head slightly.

"If you can't keep the King's peace, perhaps the city watch should be commanded by someone who can." Renly pointed out, looking at the commander as he put a grape in his mouth.

"I need more men."

"You'll get fifty." Ned said. "Lord Baelish will see it paid for."

"I will?" Petyr asked, looking at Ned confused.

"You found money for a champion's purse, you can find money to keep the peace." Ned said. "I'll also give you twenty of my household guard, until the crowds have left."

"Thank you, my Lord Hand sir." the commander said. "They will be put to good use."

He bowed and turned on his heel, making his way towards the exit of the door as Ned took a gulp of summer wine to calm his nerves. He had been drinking a lot more wine than he was used to lately, probably due to the stress that being Hand of the King had put on him.

"The sooner this is over, the better." Ned said.

"The realm prospers from such events, my lord." Varys pointed out. "They give the greater chance of glory and the lowly a respite from their woes."

"An every inn in the city is full." Littlefinger said. "And the whores are walking bow legged."

"I'm sure the tourney puts coins in many a pocket." Ned said. "Now, if there's nothing else, my lords?"

Each of the lords stood up and bowed to Ned before turning to leave the small council room. The maester was the last to rise, probably due to his old age and took a great deal of time trying to get down the steps to walk towards the door.

"I've been hoping to talk to you about Jon Arryn." Ned said to the Maester before he could get too far.

"Lord Arryn?" the maester asked. "His death was a great sadness to all of us. I took personal charge of his care, but I could not save him."

Ned listened intently on how his sister-in-law's husband died while serving King Robert. Ned knew Jon, and Jon wasn't the man to die from a quick sickness.

"His sickness struck him, very hard and very fast." the maester continued. 'I saw him in my chambers just the night before he passed. Lord Jon often came to me for council."

"Why?" Ned asked.

"I have been Grand Maester for many years." he said, visibly offended by Ned's question. "Kings and Hands have come to me for advice since-"

"What did Jon want, the night before he died?" Ned asked.

"Oh, he came inquiring about a book."

"A book?" Ned asked, a curious thing to ask a maester for. "What book?"

"I'm afraid it would be of little interest to you, my lord." the maester said. "A ponderous tome."

"No, I'd like to read it." Ned nodded.

"The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, with descriptions of many high lords and noble ladies and their children." the maester said, as he put the very large and very heavy book on the desk.

Ned approached the book and examined the shiny front, wondering why Jon wanted this particular book so badly. It was just the history of all of the noble houses. Nevertheless, Ned opened the book and stared down at the pages. He turned the dry parchment, glancing at the names cramped onto the many pages.

"Harkon Umber, First of his Name, born to Lord Hother Umber and Lady Amaryllis Umber in the 183rd year after Aegon's Landing. At the last heart. Blue of eye, brown of hair and fair complected. Died in his fourteenth year of a wound sustained in a bear hurt.

"As I said, a ponderous read." the maester repeated.

"Did Jon Arryn tell you what he wanted with it?" Ned asked.

"He did not, my lord. I did not presume to ask." the maester said.

"And Jon's death-"

"Such a tragedy." the maester spoke up.

"Did he say anything to you during his final hours?" Ned asked.

"Nothing important, my lord." the maester said. "Oh, there was one phrase that he kept repeating. 'The seed is strong' I think it was."

"The seed is strong?" Ned asked, not believing what he heard. "What does that mean?"

"The dying mind is a demented mind, Lord Stark." the maester said. "For all the weight they've given, last words usually are as significant as first words."

"And you're quite certain that he died of a natural illness?" Ned asked.

"What else could it be?" the maester asked.

"Poison." Ned said.

The maester shook his head, almost in disbelief that Ned would suggest such a thing.

"A disturbing thought, no no no, I don't think it likely. The Hand was loved by all. What sort of man would dare-"

"I've heard it said that poison is a woman's weapon." Ned stated.

"Yes. Women, cravens, and eunuchs." the maester stated. "Did you know that Lord Varys is a eunuch?"

"Everybody knows that." Ned shrugged.

"Yes yes, of course. How that sort of person found himself on the King's council, I will never know."

"I've taken enough of your time." Ned stated, opening the bag to put the book inside.

"No trouble at all, my lord." the maester said. "It's a great honor-"

"Thank you." Ned said, tucking the book and bag under his arm. "I'll find my own way out."

* * *

**Noah.**

* * *

The day of The Hand's Tourney arrived, people from all over flocked to watch the event alongside of the royal family. It was a cool morning and Noah's father was already three cups into his summer wine. Noah was wearing a similar gold and black doublet like his father and brother Joffrey, although he wasn't wearing the golden crown of the king. He was seated next to his brother Joffrey, below his mother and father as the first contestants of the joust prepared.

People were cheering for the games to begin, and the sound of hooves against the dirt could be heard from all directions. Noah looked round attentively at the crowd, noting his middle brother's disinterest with the tourney. Below them was The Hand and his family, sitting on wooden stands to watch the tourney. The oldest Stark was looking at Joffrey, trying to catch his eye. When they finally made eye contact, she smiled to him but he looked away and shifted in his chair.

Noah felt bad for Sansa, he really did. The once thought of romance between them seemed clearly one sided by now, Joffrey still avoided her like the child he was acting like. It seemed to take its toll on Sansa, who looked away solemnly and back to the jousters who were making their way onto the field. Noah continued to watch her as Petyr Baelish of the small council approached Sansa, saying something to her that Noah could not hear.

"I've been sitting here for days!" Noah's father shouted, rising from his padded chair. "Start the damn joust before I piss myself!"

The two contestants rode towards the King, stopping on their horses to bow and pay their respects. The two knights were so different in comparison, it was almost like they were day and night. Ser Gregor Clegane, aka The Mountain, was an extremely tall and extremely muscular man in black armor. Ser Hugh of the Vale, wearing silver and brand new armor. He was originally Jon Arryn's squire until he passed, Noah's father had knighted him for his service to Lord Arryn.

After paying their respects to the king, they both galloped off in opposite directions so that they could prepare to joust. Noah shifted forward in his seat as they prepared to joust, grabbing their lances to hold under their arms. The Mountain's horse kicked at the ground anxiously, desperate to get running.

When both horses began running at the other, the cheering of the crowd seemed to pick up. Noah sat even more on the edge of his chair as he prepared to see the outcome of this particular joust. Just as the lances that each contestant was holding was about to hit the other, they moved away and continued down the path to turn around and start again.

This time when both horses came rushing down, The Mountain hit Ser Hugh in just the right spot that he went flying from his horse and onto the ground. Ser Gregor had gotten him right in the neck where his new silver armor didn't cover. Ser Hugh fell to the dirt, spitting up blood from his mouth in large amounts as he choked on his own blood. Someone had screamed, and the whole royal party had risen to their feet to watch. He was fairly close to them, in fact he was right in front of them and dying. No one did anything until after he had died, and was pulled off by two men so that the next joust could start.

* * *

**Eddard.**

* * *

Ned didn't want to go to the tourney for him, he didn't even want it. It was just another excuse the king had for a feast and to watch some sport, and Ned was missing all of it while sitting up in the Hand's bed chambers. He looked out the window to feel the cool breeze, faintly hearing the sound of the jousting at the other side of the castle.

There was a sharp rap on the door and Jory came in, "My lord, her grace the queen."

Cersei entered right after Jory, her red robes flowing behind her as she swiftly stepped around Jory and towards Ned's desk.

"Your Grace." Ned nodded respectively.

"You're missing your tournament." Cersei said.

"Putting my name on it doesn't make it mine." Ned replied.

"I thought we might put what happened on the Kingsroad behind us." Cersei said, moving to examine Ned's quarters. "The ugliness with the wolves. And forcing you to kill the beast was extreme. Though sometimes we go to the extremes where our children are concerned. How is Sansa?"

"She likes it here." Ned said, though he hadn't talked to Sansa properly since the direwolf incident. She was flat out refusing to talk to him. As for Cersei, she did overreact with matters that involved her children. Each one was like a prized jewel to her, and would make sure nothing even scratched them.

"She's the only Stark who does." Cersei observed. "Favors her mother, not much of the North in her."

"What are you doing here?" Ned asked, asking what he had been wondering since the queen arrived in his room.

"I might ask the same of you." Cersei said. "What is it you hope to accomplish?"

"The king called on me to serve him and the realm, and that's what I'll do until he tells me otherwise." Ned informed.

"You can't change him, you can't help him." Cersei pointed out. "He'll do what he wants, which is what he's always done. You'll try your best to pick up the pieces."

"If that's my job, then so be it." Ned said, wanting nothing more than for the queen to leave his quarters.

"You're just a soldier, are you?" Cersei asked. "You take your orders and you carry on. I suppose it makes sense. Your older brother was trained to lead, and you were trained to follow."

"I was also trained to kill my enemies, Your Grace." Ned threatened, hoping the point would get across to Cersei.

"As was I." Cersei almost whispered, turning to leave Ned alone in his sleeping quarters to mull over what Cersei had just said.

* * *

There was a break in the tournament where the king and his family went inside the castle to have lunch, and the rest of the spectators cleared out so that the stable boys could prepare the horses and the dirt for the next round of jousts. Ned had gotten wind of what happened at the first joust, and how Ser Hugh was now dead. It was almost a coincidence that Jon Arryn's former squire died shortly after Jon Arryn did. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence at all though.

He entered the healing tent as the ladies were stitching up Ser Hugh's cut open throat. It was sad to see the young man now lifeless on a table, being prepared to be laid into the ground for eternity.

"Does Ser Hugh have any family in the capital?" Ned asked Ser Barristan, the member of the Kingsguard who had entered the tent as well.

"No." Ser Barristan responded. "I stood vigil for him myself last night. He had no one else."

"He'd never worn this armor before." Ned examined, looking at the shiny steel now wasted and splattered with blood.

"Bad luck for him, going against The Mountain." Ser Barristan said, looking sadly at Ser Hugh.

"Who determines the draw?" Ned asked curiously.

"All the knights draw straws, Lord Stark." Ser Barristan informed.

"Aye." Ned said. "But who holds the straws?"

Ser Barristan didn't respond, giving the corpse of Ser Hugh one last look.

"You've done good work, sisters." Ned said, before exiting the tent with Ser Barristan right behind him.

They exited the tent where his squire was waiting to hand Ser Barristan his gold helmet and fasten his white cloak around his neck.

"Life is strange." Ser Barristan said. "Not so many years ago we fought as enemies at the trident."

"I'm glad we never met on the battlefield, Ser Barristan." Ned said. "As is my wife. I don't think the widow's life would suit her."

They both chuckled lightly at Ned's joke as they walked back from the healing tent.

"You're too modest, I've seen you cut down a dozen great knights." Ser Barristan said.

"My father once told me, you were the best he'd ever see." Ned said. "I never knew the man to be wrong about matters of combat."

"He was a fine mine, your father." Ser Barristan said. "What the Mad King did to him was a terrible crime."

"And that lad, he was a squire until a few months ago." Ned said, working out what he had been thinking about in his head. "How could he afford a new suit of armor?"

"Perhaps Lord Arryn left him some money." Ser Barristan suggested. "I hear the king wants to joust today."

It was an attempt to take their mind off of what was going on in Ned's mind with Jon Arryn's death and the squire business. It was enough for Ned to think about other things, shocked that Robert was thinking about jousting.

"Yes, that will never happen." Ned said.

Ser Barristan chuckled, "Robert tends to do what he wants."

"If the king got what he wanted all the time, I'd still be fighting a damned rebellion." Ned pointed out.

* * *

When Ned entered the tent, it seemed Robert was going to try and joust after all. His squire, Lancel Lannister was trying to fasten his breast plate, but was having an awfully hard time doing so. Robert held his breath as he tried to suck in, as it became apparent that he wasn't small enough to fit into his armor.

His oldest son Noah was also in the tent, sitting on a chair in a pale green doublet, trying not suppress a smile at the sight in front of him as he ate a date. Noah saw Ned before Robert or Lancel did, and spoke up with a slight mouthful of date.

"Hello, Lord Stark. Come to your tournament today?" Noah asked, making his father turn to look at him as Lancel continued to fumble with the straps of the breast plate.

"It's made too small, Your Grace. It won't go." Lancel finally spoke up, causing Robert's attention to immediately be turned to the long haired boy trying to fasten his armor.

"Your mother was a dumb whore with a fat ass, did you know that?" Robert informed the squire, as he took off his breast plate. "Look at this idiot! One ball and no brains. He can't even put a man's armor on him properly."

"You're too fat for your armor." Ned said bluntly, nodding at Robert's gut.

"Fat? Fat, is it?" Robert asked, and Ned could hear Noah trying to suppress more laughter from escaping his lips. "Is that how you speak to your king?"

Ned didn't saying anything in response, instead he just continued to stare at Robert's belly. Robert soon let out a wheezy laugh, that made Ned and Noah start to laugh themselves. The second Lancel began to let out a nervous laugh, Robert stopped.

"That was funny, is it?" he asked Lancel, whose face went pale.

"No, Your Grace." Lancel replied.

"No? You don't like The Hand's joke?" Robert asked.

"You're torturing the poor boy." Ned said, crossing his arms as Noah cleared his throat and finished his date.

"You heard The Hand, the king's too fat for his armor!" Robert yelled. "Go find the breastplate stretcher, now!"

Lancel ran from the tent faster than any animal that Ned had ever seen, setting down Robert's breastplate as he fled from the tent. The second Lancel left, Robert was roaring with laughter again.

"I didn't know there was such thing as a breastplate stretcher." Noah spoke up.

"That's because there isn't one." Ned said, turning to Robert who was pouring more wine. "How long before he figures it out?"

"Maybe you should have one invented." Ned said.

"All right, all right." Robert said. "But you watch me out there - still know how to point a lance."

"You have no business jousting, leave that for the young men." Ned said.

"Yeah, like me." Noah spoke up.

"I've told you once, I've told you eighteen times, princes can not be in the tournament. See if your mother would let you get away with that one!" Robert practically yelled at his oldest, taking another gulp of wine. "I just want to hit somebody!"

"And who's going to hit you both back?" Ned asked.

"Anyone who can." Robert responded. "And the last man in his saddle-"

"Will be one of you." Ned finished.

"There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would risk hurting you or your oldest." Ned explained.

"Are you telling me those cowards would let us win if one of us joined the tournament?" Robert asked.

"Aye." Ned nodded.

Robert poured a large glass of wine, and held it out for Ned to take.

"Drink." he said.

"I'm not thirsty." Ned said, shaking his head.

"Drink. Your king commands it." Robert said.

"It's in your best interest to do it, you know." Noah spoke up.

Ned sipped his wine, as Robert sat down at a couch in the tent. "Gods, too fat for my armor."

"Your squire," Ned began to ask. "a Lannister boy?"

"A bloody idiot, but Cersei insisted." Robert said. " I have Jon Arryn to thank for her. 'Cersei Lannister will make a good match,' he told me. 'You'll need her father on your side.'"

Ned looked at Noah, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the discussion of his mother.

"I thought being king meant that I could do whatever I wanted." Robert said. "Sometimes I see why Noah here abdicated. Enough of this, let's go watch them ride. At least I can smell someone else's blood."

"Robert." Ned called.

"What?" he asked, turning around.

Ned nodded at the fact that Robert was not wearing the appropriate clothes for a king, and could see his large belly quite clearly.

"An inspiring sight for the people, eh?" Robert asked, as he laughed. "Bow to your king! Bow you shits!"


	6. 6

**It's been over a year, but at this point, this story is just what I do in my free time. The ending of season 6 has given me a lot of ideas involving this sotry, though some people are still criticizing the fact I made Noah want to be a Kingsguard, there's a reason for it. **

_**He does seem like a filler character now, but that changes after this chapter. Reviews will be monitored, I'm really not looking for criticism since this is just a story that I'll write on my free time. I'm not writing a book please remember. **_

* * *

The Hand's Tourney was in full swing once more, with just as many people as before attending. Noah was back in his chair next to Joffrey, who looked as sour as before. Noah would've much rather have seated himself next to his Uncle Renly, who was sitting on the benches nearby in a forest green doublet. His uncle, although House Baratheon, never seemed to wear the Baratheon colors. It didn't bother Noah, and no one seemed to notice anyway. None of his father's brothers got along with Noah's father, though they had to remain polite since he was king. Everyone knew however that if Robert wasn't king, they wouldn't have been as kind to him.

By now it was mid afternoon, and the temperature of King's Landing was warming up. Noah was sitting in the shade, but that didn't aid much to Noah who was in his black and yellow doublet.

'Why did the Baratheon colors have to be black and yellow?' he thought, shifting uncomfortably slightly as he felt he was almost being cooked alive. He lifted his hand and pushed the hair that was falling in front of his face out of the way, as he squinted slightly in the sunlight.

The anxious crowd who was watching, soon began to cheer as the next jousting contestants rode out on their horses. Noah and everyone else sitting in the section leaned forward to see The Mountain riding down the lane on his black horse, similar to his black armor. He was a giant of a man, and Noah was surprised that his horse was able to keep him on its back. His nickname 'The Mountain' obviously was given to him for a reason.

Ser Gregor approached the king, and opened the visor of his helmet to mandatorily bow to King Robert.

Coming from the other side was Ser Loras Tyrell, who was also known as Lord of the Flowers. He was always considered to be gallant, especially on a pure white horse. His hair was a bit longer than Noah's, and was also a bit more curly and lighter brown. He was only a year older than Noah, and had practiced with Noah for a period of time when they were boys. Ser Loras had a sister named Margaery, who was a year younger than Noah. Margaery Tyrell was very beautiful, and spent a lot of time with Noah when he visited High Garden. She even gave him his first kiss when he was twelve.

'_An heir to the Iron Throne who hasn't had his first kiss yet isn't a true heir._' she had told him, before quickly leaning in to peck his lips. Before Noah could even react, she had giggled and ran away, leaving Noah standing there thunderstruck.

Ser Loras approached the middle just below Noah, and handed a beautiful red rose to Sansa Stark, who was a few benches below Noah. She took it gratefully as he smiled down at her, though all Noah could see of Sansa was the back of her auburn hair. In a way, Noah envied Loras. Only a year older than Noah, yet a knight. It was a milestone Noah only dreamed of. He made the mistake of bringing his envy of Loras being a knight up to his grandfather, who told him sternly, '_You've done nothing major enough that deserves being knighted._'

Loras rode up next to The Mountain and bowed respectfully to Noah's father. The opponents gave each other one last look before riding down to their respective sides to prepare for the match. The Mountain's horse was acting rampant, making noises and bucking slightly as Ser Gregor pulled his shield onto his arm. Ser Loras on the other hand was very calm, oozing confidence as he put the silver helmet over his head.

When both men were ready, the horn blew to signal the start of the match. There was a pause before both men kicked off on their horses, and they began charging at each other at a fast speed. Noah gripped the edge of his chair the moment before both men made impact. The Mountain went flying back off of his horse, hitting the ground with so much force that it seemed to make the kingdom shake.

Everyone was whooping with a mix of laughter in surprise as Ser Gregor's horse rose from its feet, leaving The Mountain in the dirt and mud. The whooping soon turned into applause as Loras stopped and turned on his horse. He was the champion of The Hand's tournament, an astounding title at only eighteen.

By now, The Mountain had rose to his feet and threw his helmet on the ground. His face was purple with anger, and his beard had beads of sweat in it.

"Sword!" he screamed, his voice thundering over the applause of the people.

Noah noticed it, his polite clapping slowing down as he watched The Mountain. His squire came running up to him, holding a large sword sheathed in a scabbard. The Mountain pulled the sword from its sheath and brought the blade down on the horse's neck before anyone could react.

His sister screaming was the first thing Noah registered as he tore his eyes away from the decapitated horse. She was covering her face with her hands, Tommen clung onto her shoulder. Next to him, Joffrey was staring at the scene with a mix of shock and curiosity as The Mountain charged Ser Loras.

He swung at Ser Loras, unseating him from his horse. Loras fell to the ground on his back, his horse ran away in fear. Unable to do anything, Loras tried his best to scurry away on his back. For a champion of the tournament, the only thing he looked like was a scared low born. The Mountain continued to swing at Ser Loras, splintering his shield.

The Hound ran down to the scene in an instant, leaving Joffrey's side for the first time. Noah watched, immediately opening his arms for Tommen who ran into them and buried his face in Noah's shoulder. Noah gripped Tommen as tightly as he could while still keeping his eyes on the battle and stood up next to Joffrey. Joffrey looked at him in satisfaction, a small smile on his face.

"Stop this madness in the name of your King!" Robert bellowed, breaking himself out of the trance of what was happening.

The Mountain swung one last time, and The Hound turned to kneel in front of Robert. Ser Gregor threw his sword on the ground, huffing from anger and the energy used to fight everyone in sight. He glared up at them, and Tommen buried himself back into the neck of Noah when he caught sight of The Mountain's glare.

"Let him go!" Robert called as The Mountain walked towards the exit. People automatically parted for him as he went.

By now, Loras had rose to his feet. His hair was disheveled and Noah wouldn't have been surprised if he had made water in his armor. He approached The Hound, who had rose to his feet.

"I owe you my life, ser." Loras said.

"I'm no ser." The Hound said gruffly.

Loras still reached out and grabbed the gauntlet of The Hound, and raised his arm up. People cheered and clapped for Ser Loras and The Hound. Noah tried his best to do so but it was difficult since he was holding onto Tommen. Even though Joffrey clapped, he looked none too pleased that his dog had left his side without orders.

"Noah, I want to go home." Tommen said in his ear.

Noah sighed, and turned away from the scene. "Alright, let's go. We'll go find mum."

* * *

**Eddard.**

* * *

"How is your son, my lord?" Varys asked, entering The Hand's study.

With everything on his mind, Ned didn't need to see Varys, or anyone for that matter. Being The Hand had many responsibilities, and since Robert didn't like participating in matters of the King, Ned was left to do them. In a way, Ned was the King of Westeros, but Robert just held the title.

"He'll never walk again." Ned repeated, as he had been ever since people had been asking of the news.

"But his mind is sound?" Varys asked, closing the shutters of the windows.

"So they say." Ned said, realizing what Varys was doing.

"A blessing then." Varys responded.

Jory, who was standing guard outside of his study gave him a weary look as Varys closed the door on them.

"I suffered an early mutilation myself." Varys said, as if no one knew. Everyone in Westeros knew of what happened to Varys. "Some doors close forever, others open in most unexpected places."

Varys sat down in front of Ned, who had abandoned writing the important letters. He had been tiring himself all day with them, and his hand ached to be rested. It was obvious Varys wasn't going to be leaving without saying what he needed anyway.

"If the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head." Varys said. "And who would mourn poor Varys then? North or South, they sing no songs for spiders.

"But there are things you must know. You are the King's Hand and the King is a fool. Your friend, I know. But a fool. And doomed unless you save him."

"I've been in the capital a month." Ned said, angry with the news. "Why have you waited so long to tell me this?"

"I didn't trust you." Varys said.

"So why do you trust me now?" Ned responded, growing impatient with Varys's games.

Varys laughed slightly, as if Ned's question was complete rubbish. "The queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely. There are few men of honor in the capital. You are one of them and I would like to believe I myself am one. Strange as that may seem."

"What sort of doom does the king face?" Ned asked.

"The same sort as Jon Arryn." Varys said. "The Tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing. As clear and tasteless as water, it leaves no trace."

Ned rose from his seat, not wanting to face Varys as he processed the information. "Who gave it to him?" he asked.

"Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one?" Varys questioned, though Ned had a suspicion that he already knew. "There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy though. All he was, he owed to Jon Arryn."

"The squire, Ser Hugh?" Ned asked, turning back around.

"Pity what happened to him." Varys said. "Just when his life seemed to be going so nicely."

"If Ser Hugh poisoned him, who paid Ser Hugh?" Ned asked. He knew there was a reason why Jon's old squire was able to afford such expensive armor just after being knighted.

"Someone who could afford it." Varys said, as if it were obvious.

"Jon was a man of peace." Ned said, leaning against his chair. "He was Hand for seventeen years, seventeen good years...why kill him?"

"He started asking questions." Varys said, slowly.

"Lord Eddard, we've found your daughter." Jory said, opening his study door.

Relief and anger washed over Ned as he stopped working on his letters, and Arya entered. She was closely followed by two of his house guard members, and Arya looked ashamed as she sat down in a seat across from her father.

Ned dismissed the guard members and Jory closed the door behind them, leaving Arya and Ned alone in his study.

"You know I've had half my guard out searching for you?" Ned asked, angrily. "You promised me this would stop-"

"They said they were going to kill you!" Arya interjected.

"Who did?" Ned asked.

"I didn't see them, but I think one was fat." Arya said.

"Oh, Arya." Ned sighed, reaching up to rub his temple. With all the work he had, Arya's made up stories to get out of trouble were not what he needed at the moment.

"I'm not lying! They said you found the bastard and the wolves are fighting the lions and the savage." Arya said, as Ned looked up. How did she know that? "Something about the savage."

_It was true that Ned had found a bastard. King Robert's bastard to be exact, or one of them at least. He had gone into the streets of the capital with Jory on horseback, searching for a blacksmith. Ned had been tipped off by someone about a blacksmith with a young boy apprentice that would be of interest to Ned._

_Jory had been informing him on the information he had learned from Ser Hugh, and how Ser Hugh would only talk to the Hand directly. Knights in King's Landing were very full of themselves nowadays. _

_Ned dismounted from his white horse outside of the blacksmith, and made his way inside. Jory looked around wearily before following suit, keeping a firm hand on the hilt of his sword. Once both inside, Ned found the blacksmith. He was an old, balding man with white hair and facial hair. He was wiping the sweat off his face as Ned approached, and had a slight accent that made it a tad hard for Ned to understand._

"_The former Hand did call on me, my lord, several times." the blacksmith said, answering any questions that Ned asked. "I regret to say he did not honor me with his patronage."_

_Ned glanced into the back of the blacksmith where a young boy was pounding away at the hot metal next to the coals. He looked like a strong boy, his hair black and unruly. His face was shadowed and he was looking down, making it hard for Ned to get a good look at his face._

"_What did Jon Arryn want?" Ned asked._

"_He always came to see the boy." the blacksmith responded, motioning behind him._

"_I'd like to see him as well." Ned said. As if the boy heard, the sound of the metal being pounded into shape stopped._

"_As you wish, my lord." he said, turning around. "Gendry!"_

_Gendry put down his mallet and moved away from the fire. He was dirty, sweat covered his body as he stepped in front of Ned._

"_Here he is," the blacksmith said. "Strong for his age. He works hard."_

_Gendry looked up at Ned, his blue-green eyes the only light thing on his face. He looked familiar to Ned, oddly familiar. He couldn't place his finger on it just yet, but Gendry had a striking appearance to someone he knew. He could see why Jon Arryn was so interested in him now._

_Gendry did as he said, and went to grab the helmet that he had made. He handed it to Ned, who examined the helmet in his hands. The boy looked about sixteen, and this was fine craftsmanship for such a young age._

"_This is fine work." Ned admitted._

"_It's not for sale." Gendry responded, putting his hands behind his back._

"_Boy, this is the King's Hand!" the blacksmith said angrily. "If his lordship wants the helmet-"_

"_I made it for me." Gendry said, stubborn on keeping the helmet._

"_Forgive him, my lord." the blacksmith said._

"_There's nothing to forgive." Ned responded. "When Lord Arryn came to visit you, what would you talk about?"_

"_He just asked me questions is all, m'lord." Gendry said._

"_What kind of questions?" Ned asked._

_Gendry looked at the blacksmith, as if in approval to talk. The blacksmith nodded his head slightly, "About my work at first. If I was being treated well, if I liked it here. But then he started asking me about my mother."_

"_Your mother?" Ned frowned, examining the boy's face._

"_Who she was, what she looked like." Gendry said, shrugging._

"_And what did you tell him?" Ned asked, realizing just why Jon Arryn was interested in Gendry just from the shrug of shoulders._

"_She died when I was little, and had yellow hair." Gendry said. "She'd sing to me sometimes."_

_Gendry looked down, as if preparing to excuse himself to go finish his work. It was then that Ned froze, his mouth hung open slightly._

"_Look at me." he commanded, and Gendry obeyed with a confused facial expression on his face._

_Ah! He saw it! Gendry showed striking resemblance to King Robert himself. It must've been one of King Robert's bastards, of how many no one knew. Gendry had the same colored eyes as Noah, as well as the same dark brown hair color. They looked more like brothers than Noah did to his own brothers and sister. Gendry also shared the same strong build as Noah did. Strong muscles that helped them tremendously in their life. The only traits that differed from Gendry and Noah were Noah's stronger jawline and smoother face, he was a lot more pleasing to the eye than Gendry was. Noah must've gotten that from the Lannister side, but this was no doubt Robert's bastard._

Ned was walking along the paths of King's Landing, hot and sweating like a pig as usual. The heat really was unbearable. He had been summoned to the small council, where the king himself was going to attend. This would be the first time the king would've attended a small council meeting, at least during Ned's term as Hand.

The King was seething, purple with anger concerning Daenerys Targaryen. She was eighteen, and now pregnant according to Robert. He was furious, mad that such a thing would happen and fearful of what could happen to him if the baby turned out a son. Robert didn't want to hear any of which Ned had to say, angry that Ned would suggest to do nothing.

"Do you think it's honor that rule these seven kingdoms?" Robert bellowed. "It's fear! Fear and blood!"

"Then we're no better than the Mad King!" Ned shot back, interrupting Robert.

"Careful, Ned. Careful now." Robert warned, and Ned knew he had pushed a button.

"You want to assassinate the girl because The Spider heard a rumor?" Ned asked.

"No rumor, my lord. The princess is with child." Varys confirmed.

Ned doubted it, none of the information was concrete. In fact, Ned couldn't believe anything that anyone said anymore. It was all falling apart.

"We commit murder on the word of Jorah Mormont?" Ned asked.

"And if he's right? If she has a son?" Robert asked, loudly. "A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army-"

"The Narrow Sea still lies between us." Ned pointed out. "I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water."

"Do nothing?" Robert asked.

Robert went off on a loud tangent, which made Ned want to cringe and sit down. His council tried to suade Ned to follow Robert's plan. They wanted her killed, in fact Renly said that it should've happened years ago when they were still children. Ned found all of it absurd, killing children for no good reason at all? The Dothraki would never cross the Narrow Sea, they wouldn't go in water their horses couldn't drink.

Ned walked over to Robert, and leaned against his desk. "I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts or second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. Don't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."

"She dies." Robert said firmly.

"I will have no part in it." Ned responded.

"You're the King's Hand, Stark. You'll do as I command, or I'll find a Hand who will." Roberth glared.

Ned stood up slowly, staring at Robert the whole time as he removed the pin from his doublet, and tossed it in front of Robert. It made a loud clanging sound as it hit the desk.

"And good luck to him." Ned said. "I thought you were a better man than this."

* * *

**Noah.**

* * *

"Damn him!" Jaime yelled, slamming his fists down on the wood table. "His bitch of a wife is holding my younger brother hostage at the Vale for a crime he did not commit."

The Head Guard of the Lannisters tried to keep an unaffected face as Jaime fumed. Even Noah felt his uncle's reactions to be a bit rash. It wasn't until now that Jaime was becoming furious with the location of his younger brother.

"I'm sorry, ser. I don't know what else it is for us to do-" The Head Guard began.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to get Ned Stark, round up some men." Jaime said impulsively.

"Ser?" the Guard asked, surprised by Jaime's request.

"You heard me." Jaime said, his voice raising. "Get some men together!"

"Uncle, what you're about to do is against the code of the Kingsguard." Noah said, stepping forward. He frowned in confusion, what was his uncle doing?

"Is it?" Jaime asked. "Yes...well, this has to be done Noah. Don't you want to see your Uncle Tyrion ever again?"

"Of course but,-" Noah began.

"But nothing. It's time you learned that family comes before honor." Jaime said, beginning towards the exit of the castle. "Come with me."

"Where?" Noah asked, jogging slightly so that he could catch up with his uncle.

"We're going to serve some justice for your Uncle." Jaime said.

Out in King's Landing, Jaime and Noah rode on horseback towards the brothel that Ned Stark was currently inside. What his uncle was about to do was questionable to Noah, partly going against what he had learned over the years. He pushed back that feeling and managed to partially convince himself that what they were doing needed to be done.

"Such a small pack of wolves." Jaime said, as both of them dismounted from their white horses.

Ned looked at them, his mouth agape. He seemed more surprised to see Noah with Jaime than anything else.

"Stay back, ser. This is the Hand of the King." Jory said, stepping forward defensively. He had his hand on his sword. Noah could feel the tension, as if anything could snap at any moment.

"_Was _the Hand of the King." Jaime pointed out as he smugly looked at them both. Jaime turned to Noah who stood next to him. "Now I'm not sure what he is...Lord of somewhere very far away."

From inside the brothel, Petyr Baelish ran out in just a fine quality robe.

"What is the meaning of this, Lannister?" he asked, stopping shortly behind Ned.

"Get back inside where it's safe." Jaime ordered. "I'm looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don't you, Lord Stark? Blonde hair, sharp tongue, short man."

"I remember him well." Ned nodded.

"It seems he's had some trouble on the road. You wouldn't know what happened to him, would you?" Jaime asked. Noah knew that he knew the information already, and just wanted to pick the information out of Ned himself.

"He was taken at my command, to answer for his crimes."

Jaime quickly unsheathed his sword, causing Jory and the Lannister guards behind them to aim their spears at Ned. Noah unsheathed his sword as well, but kept it down at his side in a lazy manner.

"Come, Stark. I'd rather you die sword in hand." Jaime said.

"If you threaten my lord again-" Jory began.

"What is the meaning of bringing your nephew here?" Ned spoke up. "Are you filling him with your lies?"

"Lies?" Jaime asked. "Lies about my brother? It's not a lie that your whore wife has him locked up in the Vale with a widow who can barely function on her own."

"You know very well what I'm talking about. You kill me, your brother's a dead man." Ned said.

Jaime smiled, "You're right. Take him alive, and kill his men."

Jaime stepped back and pulled on Noah's shoulder for him to step back as well. Noah watched as the Lannister guards began their approach, throwing spears at the remaining of Ned's guard. Ned unsheathed his sword and blocked two spears from two guards that were coming right at him. Even though he was older, it was apparent that Ned was still a seasoned fighter. He parried and defended himself with an expertise that Noah had only seen a few times before, mostly in his Uncle Jaime.

While both men were watching the wolves battle the lions, Jory had killed two of the guards and was coming straight for Jaime. He moved quickly, and Noah saw it before Jaime did. Without a second thought, Noah stepped in front of Jaime and used his sword to prevent Jory's blade from coming down on his Uncle's arm.

He pushed with all he had in him and lifted a foot to Jory's chest, pushing him backwards. Jory stumbled back a few feet, trying to regain himself. He tried to swing another blow at Noah now, but Noah leaned back to prevent Jory's sword from cutting off his head. As Jory's sword was following through, Noah lunged forward and brought his sword into Jory's ribs. The sword went right through him like butter, and hot blood splashed his face and clothes. Jory stared at him with his mouth open in shock, gasping for breath that would not fill his lungs. Noah's face was scrunched up in concentration and anger, his teeth bared as he twisted the sword to the right while it was still impaled in Jory's body.

Jory fell to the dirt as Noah pulled his sword out from his stomach, the clean blade now red with blood and dripping off the end.

It had been a while since he had killed someone, and his mind was buzzing with what had just happened. Ned Stark was watching him in disbelief, shocked that Noah actually killed someone.

Jaime advanced on Ned, his sword pointed right at Ned's face. Noah watched as Ned's sword flew up to knock Jaime's away from him, ensuing a sword fight between two skilled swordsman. They lunged and parried, steel collided with steel as they tried to land blow after blow on one another. Noah watched in awe, too dumbstruck by all the events that had occurred to step in and help his uncle. It was a fight that was quite unlike any he had seen in his entire life.

In the midst of the duel, a Lannister guard stepped forward and drove his spear right into the back of Ned's right thigh. Ned crumbled in pain, immediately kneeling down as blood spurted from his injury. Jaime glared hard at the guard, and Noah knew the fault the guard had done.

Jaime approached the guard, and delivered a hard punch with his sword hand. The guard crumbled to the floor right behind Ned Stark. He sheathed his sword in satisfaction, before looking at Noah.

"Come." he said, motioning to his nephew. "You must come with me."

Without questioning his uncle, Noah quickly followed and mounted the horse he was riding previously. Ned watched them as they mounted, straining to keep his eyes on them.

"My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back." Jaime said, kicking off on his horse. "Let's go."

Noah kicked his horse, causing it to trot on after Jaime. Jaime was heading towards the front gates of King's Landing, was Noah to follow him?

"Where are we going?" Noah called ahead, causing Jaime to slow his horse slightly.

"Us? We're going to find your Uncle Tyrion, and I need you with me. You'll be thanking me for taking you out of that castle. It drives me mad sometimes." Jaime said. "Your mother is going to be fuming that I took you from her."

"But Uncle Jaime, you just left the King's Guard. That is frowned upon, you swore an oath-" Noah protested.

"I did swear an oath yes. You have to learn one of these days Noah, life isn't all about oaths and honor isn't going to get you half as far as if you take a few twists." Jaime said, shaking his head. "But for now, our duty is at the Riverlands with my father. And we'll get Tyrion back."


End file.
